


Don't let the sun go down on me

by Vikkaleeti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, M/M, Teacher Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vikkaleeti/pseuds/Vikkaleeti
Summary: After the war ends, Draco Malfoy leaves the wizarding world and makes a new life for himself as a teacher. Harry Potter, who is caught in an endless loop of being miserable and drinking himself into an oblivion, bumps into Draco...and life changes for the both of them.Pretty much disregards the epilogue and Cursed Child. Slash
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 34
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note – Hi! So, I wrote a few fics on another site a decade ago, and now I’m back, which is insane! Some of you may know me from my time writing ‘Use Somebody’ (pen name No1mournsthewicked), at a pretty turbulent time of my life. Well, I am now very settled lol. I have 3 beautiful boys, I did night school and became a fully qualified nursery nurse, and I finally got the love of my life – whom I am marrying on the 31st July this year (That’s right, my Harry Potter themed wedding takes place on boy wonder’s birthday! Lol)  
> So, while I’m supposed to be planning and getting wedding stuff done, I’ve decided to write a story – typical me! Let me know what you guys think – I have 3 chapters already completed and ready to go but will see how each is received individually rather than posting all 3 at once. The rest of the story is already in progress, with work done on each chapter already – I’ve been planning and making edits/notes since around October.   
> The fic is based on the Elton John song ‘Don’t let the sun go down on me’ (The Taron Egerton version from Rocketman) as I feel it can be from either Harry or Draco’s perspectives. Hope you all like it, lots of love Victoria xxx

Don’t let the sun go down on me.  
Chapter 1  
“Mr Malfoy, Jake is eating the glue again!”  
Draco sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself not to laugh. Bloody Jake would end up pooping out an ornament one of these days for all the materials he ingested! He opened his eyes and fixed them on the offending child sat at the back of the classroom, who was guiltily cradling a glue pot in one hand with a glue stick in the other, suspiciously close to his mouth.  
“Jake, how many times do I need to tell you, glue is for sticking not eating.” Draco chastised, an amused frown sliding onto his pale face. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry, was far too fond of the child he was supposed to be berating. To be fair, he was fond of all the children in his class, and rarely actually told anyone off. Which was probably the reason children were so upset at the end of the school year when they had to leave, and why his class was the only one in the school that always had the highest attendance.   
“But Mr Malfoy, it’s like custard!” The young boy replied, his eyes watching the glue he had scooped up on the stick that was now dripping back into the pot, absolutely mesmerised.  
Draco felt his eyes bug out of his head and he fought to keep a laugh from bursting out of his mouth, “Jake, I have no idea what custard you’ve been eating, but it shouldn’t taste like glue!” he chuckled, he stood from his seat and made his way over to the child’s desk. He crouched down and looked the boy in the eye, lowering his voice so only he could hear.  
“Jake, are you hungry?” He asked softly, removing the glue stick from the boy’s hand and placing it back into the pot. He watched as Jake’s thick black eyelashes fanned open and closed a few times as he considered Draco’s question before he nodded his head.  
Draco smiled knowingly, feeling a wave of compassion wash over him. He slipped his hand into his blazer pocket and pulled out a breakfast bar he had stashed there earlier that morning and slid it across the desk, “Didn’t you have breakfast today, buddy?” Draco asked as he watched the boy snatch up the breakfast bar and begin ripping off the wrapper.  
Jake shrugged, “I didn’t finish my cereal because the clocks said the wrong time and we were late.” He replied around the food in his mouth, his expression pure innocence.  
Draco chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully, wondering if he should be concerned for the boy before him, “You enjoy that buddy, no more glue though, hey.” He added, raising to standing position, ruffling the boy’s hair before turning and making his way back to his desk.  
Draco smiled to himself as he glanced around his classroom and not for the first time he thanked Merlin for the life he now had.  
It had been hard after the war had ended, when Voldemort had gone and the Ministry had turned its attention on his followers. The Malfoys’ had been severely punished, with his mother and father being imprisoned in Azkaban despite Narcissa’s involvement in ensuring Harry was brought back to Hogwarts alive. Draco had been through a rough time and had set his sights on finishing his education and then disappearing from the wizarding world.  
Which was how he’d gotten there, teaching 7 year olds in a muggle primary school, living a purely muggle life. And, ironically, Draco loved it! He had completely separated himself from the wizarding world and everyone in it, and promised himself that if he was going to start again from scratch he going to get by simply on his merits – just like every other muggle, with no wealth and no magic. Of course, in the beginning, he’d needed magic to create a muggle identity – he’d created a muggle birth certificate and passport, as well as an education history, however, other than that he had done things the muggle way. His wand had been locked in a safe in his apartment when he moved in and he had yet to find a reason to warrant getting it back out again.  
There was also the fact that living a muggle life meant he could become anonymous - could shed all the awful things that came with the Malfoy name and start again with a clean slate. This also meant he was less likely to be found by anyone who would know of him or his family.  
He’d gone to college and university, using student housing and working part time jobs to begin building a nice life for himself. Once he’d graduated, with honours, Draco had managed to save up enough money to buy a small apartment and had secured himself a job at a primary school. This had been 4 years ago, and at the age of 32, Draco had the life he’d worked so hard for since the war.  
Shaking himself away from thoughts of his past, Draco continued to carry out duties in his classroom, mindfully keeping an eye on the glue-guzzler as his class continued to make Christmas decorations, and by the end of the school day, Draco was aware he’d had a glitter makeover. December was always messy in his classroom, even if it was the first day of it, and Draco adored seeing how much fun his kids had that he could never really reign them in too much – which never really boded well for his look, though he reasoned that he didn’t much care what people thought of his look nowadays.  
“Hey, Draco, your class is as orderly as usual, I see.” An amused voice quipped from the door when the kids had gone home, and Draco glanced up from his desk, centring his gaze on the woman who stood in the doorway.  
“Hey!” Draco smiled warmly, “This is year 2, Jo, it’s meant to be chaos. I’ll leave the seriousness to you in year 6,” he quipped good-naturedly, standing from his desk and beginning to pack his things into his satchel.  
“Do you fancy coming for a drink? A few of us are going…” Jo trailed off with a shrug. Draco, however, sensed the undertone - she had shown an interest in him from the moment he had joined the faculty and had gently tried to persuade him to spend time with her.   
She was pretty enough, around 10 years Draco’s senior, though tried to appear younger with the way she dressed and styled her hair. She had worn a wedding band when Draco had first joined the faculty, but it had disappeared a few weeks later. Draco wasn’t sure if the marriage had dissolved and he felt it would be awkward if he was to ask. Though it didn’t really matter – Draco wasn’t actually interested either way.   
He’d come to the conclusion quite early on that any type of close relationship with a muggle was a lost cause because even though he had chosen to live without magic, it didn’t mean that magic didn’t occur. Being a pureblood, Draco’s veins were practically saturated with it and sometimes it burst its way out of him without much encouragement. This wasn’t really conducive to a relationship with a muggle considering the statute of secrecy, though if Draco was really honest with himself it was because he couldn’t ever see himself finding anyone he wanted to share his life with; muggle or not.  
He paused whilst sliding a folder into his bag and cleared his throat, glancing at the woman before him and smiling before continuing to fill his bag, “Sorry, I’ve got plans tonight,” he lied, careful not to sound too eager to blow her off, “maybe some other time though…” he added brightly.  
He swung his bag on to his shoulder and made his way over to the door, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket as he went, and fished out a £20 note before handing it to Jo, “Get a round on me though.” He smiled, winking cheekily, “but remember, it’s a school night!” he laughed before walking past her and down the corridor.  
He made his way out of the school and toward a local coffee shop, pulling his collar up as the December wind bit at his skin, and he dodged puddles as he weaved in and out of people making their way home. He smiled as the coffee shop came into view with the promise of a nice warm latte whilst sitting in his favourite tatty chair in the window of the shop. He liked this part of his day and it was a routine he’d had every day after work for a few years.  
He practically tumbled through the door in his haste to get inside due to the snow that had just started to fall, cursing his luck that he hadn’t brought an umbrella with him and hoped that his blazer would protect him enough on the way home now that it was snowing. He breathed in the familiar smell of coffee that hung on the air and he found himself smiling again.  
He ordered his usual latte and chatted with the barista about the weather before turning to make his way over to ‘his’ chair. He frowned to himself when he noticed it was already occupied by another man. He swore under his breath as he begun to search for another alternative to the comfy chair when he froze; his body had made a connection and his brain was slow to catch up.  
The blonde swallowed and he could feel the coffee in his hand sloshing about inside the cup as his hand trembled. His eyes darted toward the man in his chair and swept over his strong stubbly jaw-line, sloppy posture, and mop of unruly, raven coloured hair, and Draco wondered how a person could look so different yet so unchanged.   
Panic swallowed him and he felt his entire world shift from its axis. He wasn’t sure why he felt such fear, after all he wasn’t a wanted criminal or anything, but the idea that the perfect little life he had created for himself could be invaded by his past was a terrifying prospect. Draco made the decision to turn and leave before he was spotted, however, emerald green eyes glanced up and connected with his own silver orbs and the shock he was currently experiencing reflected back at him.  
“Malfoy!” Harry Potter all but choked. He’d felt someone watching him, eyes burning into the side of his head and he’d innocently turned expecting to make eye contact with the pretty little barista who had flirted with him when he’d ordered. The last person he’d expected to make eye-contact with was Draco frigging Malfoy!  
Draco’s eyes were wide, his expression portraying nothing but disbelief. Harry blinked several times, taking in the man before him. He did the maths in his head and worked out it had been at least a decade since he’d last seen the blonde, and he sighed internally how that decade didn’t show at all on Draco Malfoy’s face. He looked different but Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on why he looked different. Of course, he realised a big factor was probably the fact he was dressed in trendy muggle clothing, and his hair was styled in a side parting as opposed to being pushed back. There was also the fact he appeared to be covered in glitter!  
He cleared his throat and stood, “Malfoy.” He repeated as a greeting, hoping this time it sounded less like a swear word. He approached the blonde, extending his hand to shake Draco’s. A voice inside his brain wondered why the hell he would shake Malfoy’s hand, however he’d have to commit or risk looking like a complete idiot.  
Draco’s right eyebrow slid up and he appeared to be thinking the same as Harry as his gaze flickered to his outstretched hand. He shifted his cup to his left hand and extended his own, shaking Harry’s once before retracting it again. He was struck by the memory of the handshake he had snubbed when they had first met at Hogwarts.  
“Potter.” Draco breathed, his eyes glancing around the café. Harry couldn’t be sure if he was gauging whether any muggles were in earshot or if he was looking for a way to leave. Harry noticed how civil his tone was, there was no trace of malice or superiority as there had always been at school.   
“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be amongst muggles.” Harry commented, glancing around the coffee shop himself before centring his gaze back on the former Slytherin’s face. He was surprised to see him scowl.  
“I never thought I’d see the day I’d be shaking Harry Potter’s hand but there we are.” He retorted, hitching his bag up onto his shoulder.  
Harry breathed a small laugh and scratched at the hair at the base of his neck, “Well yes, I suppose that’s true.” He admitted. “I’d heard you’d disappeared; you’re living as a muggle?”  
Draco shifted his weight and glanced around, obvious discomfort radiating from him. “Look Potter, as lovely as this is, I have somewhere I need to be, so…”   
“Oh, sure, yeah, sorry.” Harry nodded,  
“Bye.” Draco said quickly before making a hasty retreat, hoping against all hopes that he’d never land eyes on The Boy Who Lived again.  
********  
Harry pondered the brief encounter with Draco Malfoy as he made his way home that evening. He had felt exhilarated by bumping into his former enemy, and the nostalgia of his youth gripped him as he thought about all the times they had sparred as they had grown up.   
It had been a long time since the war, and though Draco hadn’t necessarily fought, or appeared to want to fight, he had been dragged down by his family’s ties to the Death Eaters and had paid a heavy price. Harry had heard that Draco hadn’t been seen for a few years but had never given the blonde much thought as the years had passed.   
Harry had spent much of his youth obsessed by the comings and goings of Draco Malfoy and had made a conscious effort to put him as far from his mind as possible. However, bumping into him in the coffee shop had thrown Harry straight back into the weird place he was back in 6th year when he’d stalk the blonde to see what he was up to. Though, he conceded, this time it had nothing to do with any potential threat the blonde posed.  
Before walking through the front door to his home, Harry took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind of Draco Malfoy. He opened the door and strolled into the kitchen to find Ginny sat at the table, play books and other Quidditch related text books spread out around her. She didn’t look up as Harry walked in.  
“Hi.” He murmured, and without looking at the redhead, he made his way over to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a bottle of fire whiskey and a glass. He busied himself by pouring a measure before throwing it back in one gulp. He then refilled it.  
Ginny murmured in response but made no effort to greet her husband. She simply continued to read through player stats, occasionally reaching across and taking noisy slurps of her tea. Harry cringed at the sound, and picked up the bottle and his glass, “I’ll be in my room if I’m needed.” He muttered, knowing full well he wouldn’t be disturbed by his wife.  
The marriage was an absolute joke, and he and Ginny only kept up the charade to please everyone else. Truth was they barely even looked at each other nowadays. He and Ginny had stopped sharing a room around 3 years previous and the red head spent more time away with Quidditch than she did at home anyway. Harry was also more than aware that Ginny had affairs. In the beginning, he had been crushed; afterall, he had prepared himself to spend the rest of his life with her and they’d been happy to begin with. Ginny was thrilled with the celebrity that came with being married to Harry Potter and had bathed in the glow of it. However, the shine soon wore off, and she became disenchanted with The Boy Who Lived.  
Harry reasoned that he wasn’t really husband material. He didn’t seem to have that thing within him that made him passionate. Ginny had called him boring, and Harry, loathe to admit it back then, reasoned that she had a point. He didn’t want to do the things she wanted to do, and sex between them had become routine to the point it had ceased altogether – it wasn’t long after that Harry discovered the first affair, and when he’d begun to question what it was he actually wanted.  
They stayed together purely because it saved them having to explain to the world why they weren’t. Harry spent every day at the Ministry being their mascot and every evening at home, drinking himself into a dreamless sleep. He was merely going through the motions.  
Tonight, however, was different. After seeing Draco Malfoy, Harry sensed an opportunity to uncover the mystery that surrounded the disappearance of the blonde. He collapsed onto his bed and turned on the t.v for background noise. He propped himself against the wooden headboard, tugging at the pillows for a few moments until he was comfortable, before tilting his up to face the ceiling, his drink cradled against his chest. He laughed as he remembered the look on Draco’s face when he’d turned his head and made eye contact, and he found himself intrigued. The blonde had wanted to get away from Harry, that much was glaringly obvious, and he found his curiosity stoked by his reaction. As he lounged on his bed, occasionally knocking back the firewhiskey in his glass, Harry devised a plan. He would go back to the coffee shop and try to ‘bump’ into Draco Malfoy again; He’d use the opportunity to uncover what exactly he’d been up to during his decade in exile. And with that plan in place, Harry drifted off, unaware that as he fell into a dreamless sleep, a small smile pulled at his lips.  
***********  
The next day, Draco was still on edge after his run-in with Harry. He’d barely slept the night before; his body had fallen unconsciously into a fight or flight mode causing his heart to race and his palms to sweat, and he found himself constantly replaying the short conversation they’d had, wishing he’d acted differently. He was more than aware of how awkward he’d probably come across as, and he kicked himself for letting Harry Potter, of all people, see him with his guard down.  
He made it through his day at work on autopilot, and thankfully besides being splattered with some red painted that had slightly tinged some of his hair, no serious calamities had occurred. The paint, which even after he’d tried to wash out in the staff toilets, still looked like a pink streak through his almost white hair and he rolled his eyes knowing it would take a few washes to get rid of it.   
After attempting to tidy his classroom, Draco gave it up as a bad job, and decided to call it a day. He made his way out of the school, being sure to avoid conversation with any of the faculty, and, following the routine he’d had since he’d started his job, made his way down the road towards the coffee shop. For the first time all day, his mind focused on something other than Harry Potter as the beginnings of caffeine withdrawal kicked in. He reasoned that a day had never needed to be lamented over with latte like today.  
As he walked, he found himself sighing with relief that yesterday’s snow hadn’t settled, though he’d been sure to wear his most prized possession; his designer winter coat, that had cost a small fortune, over his sweater to avoid the wintery wind that had seen fit to linger over the country.  
He walked into the coffee shop and thanked Merlin that there was no queue. He ordered his usual latte, glancing around the shop whilst he waited for it to be made, and he sighed with relief when it appeared luck was on his side and the shop was, once more, a Potter-free zone. He took his drink over to his favourite seat and fell into it with a content sigh.  
He settled into the chair, awkwardly removing his coat without having to stand, and smoothed out the wrinkles of his soft-knit navy coloured sweater, before reaching into his satchel and pulling out one of the many exercise books along with a red ballpoint pen, and he began marking his children’s work.   
Draco was really quite impressed with ballpoint pens. They were so neat and convenient after having to spend years battling with messy ink and overly extravagant quills, and he’d taken to secretly collecting them.  
So engrossed with his marking, Draco failed to register when a pair of emerald eyes began watching him; observing the blonde as he would randomly shake his head or scoff at whatever he was doodling, his face open and amused. Every now and then, Draco would run a hand through his hair and then rub at his eyes in what could only be interpreted as a tired gesture.   
Harry could feel the magic radiating from the blonde. It was faint, appearing to drift out into the atmosphere when the blonde wasn’t paying attention, and Harry frowned as he considered what that meant; it was usually a sign of supressed or unused magic. His curiosity regarding the former Slytherin spiked, and he could no longer merely observe the other man.  
“Hello again, Malfoy.” Harry greeted, approaching the blonde, though misjudging the distance and bumping into the table. He cursed under his breath and wondered, not for the first time, how he ever become an auror when he was so useless on his feet.  
Draco froze upon hearing Harry’s voice, his pen hovering over the book balancing on his knee, and he slowly lifted his head, his eyes as confused as they had been the day before. He glanced around the shop suspiciously, his posture becoming more defensive. “Potter.” He said stiffly, and Harry noted, once again, the magic he could sense fizz slightly, like static. “Am I being monitored or something?” Draco added, a hint of fear in his tone.  
Harry’s eyebrows shot up into his fringe as evident shock crossed his face. He hadn’t considered that Draco would suspect he was there on Ministry business. Harry shook his head slowly, “No, I was just…” He shrugged, not really knowing how to finish the sentence; he could hardly say he was intrigued by the blonde and wanted to unlock the mystery surrounding him, “Just in the area and fancied a coffee.” He lied.  
Draco eyed him suspiciously, “Right.” He answered, doubt dripping from the single word, “Well, enjoy your coffee.” He added before turning his attention back to the exercise book on his lap. He appeared to level his gaze at the page, but Harry could tell the blonde was still watching him out of the periphery of his vision.  
Harry hovered, unsure what to do. He had been dismissed, that much was clear, however he was beyond intrigued now. He pulled a chair around and drew it up to the table in front of Draco. The blonde glanced up as Harry sank into the chair and he shifted uncomfortably in his own. “Was there something you wanted, Potter?” He asked, his tone shifting from suspicion to something harder.  
Harry smiled and breathed out a small chuckle, “No.” he answered simply with a shrug, his eyes lingering on Draco’s hair, “Do you know you’ve got something pink in your hair?” he asked, taking in the pink streak across the front of the parting.  
“Yes, I know…” Draco replied with barely concealed irritation colouring his tone. He rubbed his hand across his face and then through his hair in what appeared to be an attempt to distribute the pink streak evenly. “it’s paint.” He added tiredly.   
“You were covered in glitter yesterday.” Harry observed and took a mouthful of his coffee, watching the blonde over the rim of his cup. His interest piqued when he noticed the former Slytherin’s cheeks begin to colour.   
Draco shifted uncomfortably and began gathering his things together, “I’m not really sure what the deal is Potter, however whatever it is, I’m not rising to it.” He admitted waspishly, his expression resolute.  
“There’s no deal, Malfoy. I’m just interested,” Harry shrugged, placing his coffee on the table and rising to his feet when Malfoy did.  
“The only time you’ve been interested in me is when you’ve tried to get me in detention or Azkaban!” Draco pointed out before a thought seemed to occur to him, “Are you on drugs, Potter?” he asked, mock concern colouring his tone.  
Harry genuinely laughed out loud, holding his hands up in a display of surrender “Guilty.” He quipped, a smirk sliding across his face. It felt good sparring with Draco Malfoy; it was like he was back at Hogwarts and his life wasn’t utter shit.  
Draco blanched, faltering in his movements, “Really?” He asked, his eyes sweeping over Harry’s face looking for any signs of drug dependency. There was none.  
“No, of course not!” Harry laughed, rolling his eyes, “I honestly am just interested.” He shrugged, doing his best to look as honest as possible.  
Draco rolled his eyes and begun buttoning up his coat before shouldered his bag. He then stepped closer to the brunette and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “Well, please stop being interested, because I’ve worked hard for the life I have now and I’m doing nothing wrong. So, tell the Ministry to leave me alone.”  
Harry’s eyes widened as the blonde hissed towards his ear. He was close, closer than what was deemed socially acceptable, and Harry breathed in Draco’s scent. He smelled clean with a hint of aftershave that was beginning to wear off after a long day, and Harry swallowed as his mouth watered.  
Draco stepped away, and without even glancing at Harry, made his way towards the exit, and the former Gryffindor made the decision to follow him out, “Look, Malfoy, the Ministry isn’t after you.” He said quickly, doing his best to sound as non-threatening as possible. He stumbled out the door of the coffee shop in his haste, “Well, not as far as I’m aware.” He added.  
Draco stopped walking causing Harry to almost bump into him; the brunette swore under his breath and scrambled to side step the other man. The blonde rounded on the former Gryffindor; his expression stormy.  
“You’re the head of the Auror department, Potter!” Draco bit roughly releasing a deep breath, “Why else would you be following me?”  
Harry shifted uncomfortably, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. He didn’t like the fear that kept injecting itself into Draco’s tone, nor the fact that it was caused by him who was simply being nosy. “I’m not following you, Malfoy.”   
Draco made a face that told Harry how much he believed him. Harry smiled and shook his head, “I’m being honest.” He added in a small voice. They held eye-contact for a moment and Harry was sure he saw something shift in Draco’s expression as he appeared to give him the benefit of the doubt.  
“Hello Mr Malfoy!” came a voice from behind him, and Draco’s face dropped, his eyes closing briefly in what could only be described as embarrassment. His eyes opened and he arranged his face into a bright smile.  
“Jake!” Draco greeted warmly, smiling at the young boy who had stepped around Harry. He was no older than 7, clad in a school uniform that looked as though it’d seen better days. He was a scrawny child with a mop of jet black hair that looked as though it needed a good cut, though he wore the brightest smile that seemed only for Draco.  
Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hair as he watched Draco’s demeanour morph from mild irritation to enthusiastic man-child, and he observed with interest as the interaction with a young muggle child unfolded.  
“I’m shopping with my sister whilst mummy is at work, we’re having chicken nuggets for dinner!” the young boy spoke excitedly, and Harry watched Draco’s facial expressions, searching for any hint of disdain. He found none.  
Draco glanced very quickly at Harry before replying to the boy, he seemed to decide to pretend he wasn’t there. “Wow, chicken nuggets are my favourite!” he replied holding his hand out for a high-five. Harry physically felt his jaw slacken.  
The young boy slapped his hand against Draco’s, his face positively beaming “They’re my favourite too!” he exclaimed as though he found this news unbelievable. The boy then seemed to become aware of Harry. “Who are you?” he asked candidly.  
Harry felt his eyes widen before looking to Draco, “Er…I’m Harry.” He said simply with a small smile at the boy.  
“Are you a teacher, too?” Jake asked Harry, completely oblivious to Draco’s heart sinking as he revealed a part of his secret life to the one person he least wanted to know. Harry glanced at the blonde, his eyes surveying the man before him. He didn’t miss the look of disappointment that passed Draco’s pale features.  
Draco studiously ignored The Boy Who Lived, focusing on the young boy, “No Jake, he didn’t pay enough attention at school,” he said with mock regret, shaking his head and arranging his face into a sad frown.  
Harry glared at the blonde, “No, I’m a policeman.” He smiled at the young boy. He was aware how loosely the term applied to his job, but he could hardly say Auror.  
“Mr Malfoy said the right way to say it is police officer” Jake retorted, looking to Draco for confirmation.  
Harry also looked to the blonde, though his expression was incredulous. Draco on the other hand seemed delighted by his young charge’s recall.  
“That’s right, we don’t discriminate based on gender,” Draco informed, “silly Harry.” He gently scolded, smiling slyly at the boy. Harry’s eyes widened at the former Slytherin’s use of his given name, though he recovered before Draco glanced at him.  
“Silly Harry!” Jake reprimanded which actually coaxed a light laugh from Draco. Harry was struck by how pleasant the sound was and attractive the blonde looked when he genuinely smiled.   
Draco bid the young boy goodbye with the promise he’d see him tomorrow at school before waving until Jake disappeared around a corner. His warm smile slid abruptly from his face as he centred his gaze back at Harry.  
“Don’t say a word.” Draco warned, holding his finger up to emphasise his point, a hard edge to his tone.  
Harry, however, was not going to let the interaction he’d just witnessed pass without a comment. “Are you a teacher, Malfoy?” he asked, shock evident in his expression.  
Draco’s stomach clenched painfully tight, “Yes, I’m a teacher. I’m doing nothing wrong and I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, so I’m going to ask you one more time – what do you want?”   
Harry‘s eyes swept over the blonde’s face, taking in the tightness around his eyes and mouth. The fear Draco had tried to hide earlier presented itself to Harry again and he allowed his own expression to soften, he cleared his throat, and decided to be honest.  
“I don’t want anything, honestly. Yesterday really was just us bumping into each other.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.   
“And today?” the blonde asked, deciding to believe the former Gryffindor…for now.  
Harry squirmed slightly, “I don’t know.” He said simply, his eyes flickering away from Draco’s face and back again.  
Draco felt his eyebrows rise as he tried to read Harry’s expression. The Boy Who Lived seemed to be uncomfortable with the route the conversation had taken, though Draco detected no dishonestly in his reply. Despite himself, Draco was intrigued. “Right.”   
Harry swallowed and glanced around the high street they stood on. It was cold and people were rushing from shop to shop in an attempt to stay warm. Harry, himself, was bloody freezing which was made worse by the fact he’d chosen a jacket instead of a winter coat. The light was slowly fading as the wintery nights closed in so much earlier this side of Christmas, and it made it feel all the more colder as a result.  
“Look, Malfoy, I know this is…weird,” Harry said, and Draco’s expression agreed with the sentiment. He continued on before he lost his nerve, “but we’re not kids anymore. Do you fancy getting a pint and…I don’t know, just talk, like civil grown-ups?”  
If Draco’s expression had been disbelieving before, it was now downright incredulous. The blonde spluttered as though he couldn’t find the right words to portray how ludicrous Harry’s suggestion was, “You really are on drugs, aren’t you?”  
Harry laughed and shook his head, “No. I just want to get off this street before my balls ascend into my body!” he replied, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and shifting on the spot.  
Draco blinked in absolute bewilderment, at a complete loss of how to proceed. His whole being screamed that socialising with Harry Potter was the most bizarre suggestion he’d ever heard and no good could come from it. Unfortunately, Draco’s mouth engaged before his brain. “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?”   
Harry, who had been glancing up and down the street, centred his emerald gaze back onto Draco and appeared genuinely surprised that he’d agreed. “Deal!” he said quickly, as though his response had a time limit and if he dithered, Draco may rescind his offer. “Let’s go.” He added and began walking in the direction of the pub down the street.  
Draco remained where he stood for a moment, attempting to work out what the hell was going on as he watched Harry Potter walking off ahead of him. He shook his head and felt his feet carrying him down the street behind The Boy Who Lived for the weirdest pint he’d surely ever have in his entire life.  
To be continued…  
A/N – Please review and let me know what you thought xxx


	2. Chapter 2

Don’t let the sun go down on me  
Chapter 2

Harry and Draco sat at a table in the quietest pub known to man. Being early evening, the only occupants were day drinkers who had nursed the same drink for hours and had remained in the pub purely to avoid going home, and the evening customers were yet to begin filtering in.  
The smell of stale beer and dirty upholstery clung to the air, with the table tops feeling sticky to the touch after having only been wiped over with the same dirty dishrag day after day. It wasn’t an establishment either man would frequent voluntarily, and both made silent oaths to forgo using the restrooms during the visit.  
Harry, who was still stunned that Draco had even agreed to accompany him for a drink, had nervously bounded into the bar and ordered two pints of lager before he’d even looked around properly. He glanced at Draco who was perching on the edge of a seat with a look of utter disdain on his smooth, pale face and wondered what the hell he was doing.  
When he’d decided to go back to the coffee shop to speak to Malfoy again, he hadn’t planned much further than the blonde telling him to beat it. He hadn’t dreamed he’d find himself in a pub with him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do once they were sat together.  
Draco looked just as stunned as Harry felt, and was sat ram rod straight, touching as little of the seat as he could possibly manage. Harry noticed the blonde had yet to remove his coat and satchel, and he had a feeling the blonde didn’t intend on hanging around too long.  
Taking a deep breath and picking up the 2 pint glasses filled with lager, Harry fixed a smile on his face and made his way into the snake pit.  
***  
Draco was freaking out! His eyes flickered around the dirtiest pub in Britain and he asked himself, once again, how the hell he’d found himself there. His designer coat, that he’d saved over a year for, was touching the dirty seat and his brogues were sticking to the carpet, and he sent a death glare at Harry’s back as he felt his blood pressure climb along with his anxiety.  
Draco disliked dirt. Yes, he was a school teacher which came with a certain amount of mess and germs, and he could handle that because he always kept hand sanitiser on his desk and art supplies washed out of clothes quite easily, but dirt was a different story.  
He watched as Harry turned to face him with his goofy Gryffindor smile, which faltered slightly when he caught sight of Draco’s expression before he rallied himself, and he made his way over to the table with 2 pint glasses.  
Now, when Harry had said ‘go for a pint’, Draco had taken that as a figure of speech, however, as he looked down at the drink Harry had presented him with, he belatedly realised he should have requested a drink he actually liked.  
Harry lowered himself into the seat opposite Draco, grimacing slightly as his made contact with it, but he pushed the thought away. He could tell Draco was repulsed by the state of the place and didn’t want to acknowledge it too, in case the other man used it as an excuse to leave. So, he kept his distaste to himself and groped for something to say.  
“So, you’re a teacher.” Harry smiled, lifting his pint glass and sipping at his drink. It tasted foul, he had no idea why he bought himself one. However, Draco had agreed to go for a ‘pint’, and Harry didn’t want the blonde to think he was stuffy by ordering a whiskey. Quite frankly, he was surprised that the former Slytherin drank lager, he was almost sure he was a red wine drinker, judging by his coat and shoes.  
Draco felt exposed as Harry turned his gaze onto him, his infamous emerald eyes like laser scanners and Draco felt as though they pierced through to his very soul. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably before remembering the brunette was waiting for him to respond.  
“Yes.” Draco replied simply, and he realised after a beat that his tone held a small amount of challenge, as though he was willing Harry to make fun of his choice of career.  
Harry, to Draco’s surprise, smiled warmly as he lifted his glass again, and he held eye contact as he drank a few mouthfuls of lager. Draco refused to break the eye contact, even as it become entirely uncomfortable, and though he knew he was being ridiculous and that it no longer mattered, the old rivalry from their youth stopped him from looking away first.  
The former Gryffindor breathed a small laugh as he placed his glass on the table, and he then did something that completely threw Draco off his guard. Harry crossed his eyes before uncrossing them, watching Draco’s reaction with a smirk.  
Draco was caught between wanting to laugh and being terrified for Harry’s mental health, and something in his expression caused the brunette to laugh, “Relax, Malfoy, you look ready to apparate into thin air.” He chuckled, shaking his head with mirth.  
Draco glanced around, unsure if he was a part of some elaborate joke constructed by the Gryffindor, and Granger and Weasley were hiding in the corner laughing, or if Harry was actually crazy. He was swaying towards the latter. “Have you got mental health issues? Do you need me to call a Gryffindor?” Draco asked, his eyes wide with mock concern.  
Harry rolled his eyes, sipping at his drink again. He placed it back on the table with a clunk and leaned closer to the blonde, his eyes narrowed, “Aren’t you sick of all the politics, Malfoy? House rivalry, blood purity, family name…aren’t you sick of it?” Harry asked seriously, genuinely interested in Draco’s perspective.  
Draco visibly bristled, his expression mirroring Harry’s as his grey eyes narrowed into slits, “I’m living as a muggle! I stopped living my life by those politics a decade ago,” he informed waspishly, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  
He was annoyed that Harry was implying he was the class snob he’d been when he was a teenager. He’d worked so hard to make amends for all the shitty things he’d done as a kid and to become a decent member of society; he didn’t appreciate being reminded of the fact he was ultimately still the same person.  
“Have you considered that maybe I’m not uncomfortable because I’m a pureblooded, Slytherin, Malfoy,” he snapped, “But because you’re being incredibly weird…and you’re expecting me to drink this goblin piss.” He added, pushing the pint of lager towards Harry, causing some of the fluid to splash over the top of the rim and onto the table.  
Harry scowled at the mess on the table before levelling it at Draco, “Was that really necessary?” he moaned. On the surface, he was irritated that the other man felt the need to be so juvenile; with his words and his actions. However, further into his subconscious, Harry was impressed by the former Slytherin’s honesty. After all, he could have simply played the pureblood card.  
Harry was aware his behaviour was odd – his ambush of the other man was solid proof of that – and he wasn’t ready to address why he felt so compelled to spend time with Draco. He could address the blonde’s other complaint though. Without warning, Harry stood and walked away from the table, leaving Draco with a bittersweet triumph that he’d pushed the Gryffindor away.  
Draco stood, taking Harry’s departure as his cue to leave, and his eyes landed on the door that would mark his escape back to his anonymous life. A small part of his brain questioned if that was really what he wanted. He was surprised that Harry had given up so easily, considering his track record of being like a dog with a bone, and the confirmation that it was that easy to cut his losses and leave Draco in the disgusting pub alone smarted a little.  
Draco’s stomach jumped up into his chest when he noticed Harry approaching him, “I figured you were a red wine drinker but didn’t want to offend you before,” the brunette admitted with a sheepish grin. He held a glass of wine and placed it on the table, his grin slowly melting away as he took in Draco’s position. “Are you going?”  
Draco was at a loss. He really wanted to go home and go back to being ‘that odd man with no friends, who lived alone and taught kids their ABCs’ (he’d once heard one of his neighbours refer to him that way). However, he was also incredibly intrigued. Harry had guessed his preferred drink with absolutely no clues and gone and fetched one even after Draco had sniped at him; plus, he looked almost disappointed by the prospect of Draco leaving.  
Deciding to see what it was Harry wanted from him, Draco sank back down into his seat, and against his better judgement, he reached across and picked up the wine glass. With a gulp that was unbecoming of a man from such good stock, Draco drained half of his glass of the cheap, warm wine with a grimace. Harry, who watched him, his dark eyebrows lost in his fringe, mirrored Draco’s movements by drinking from his own glass.  
Harry really wished Draco would speak. He had thought for a moment that the blonde was going to bolt whilst he was at the bar, and the way his stomach had restricted at the thought of Draco disappearing from his life again had frightened him. Grasping at any information that the blonde had already shared that he could use to coax a conversation from him, Harry cleared his throat.  
“So, do you ever visit our world or…?” he asked lightly, attempting once again to break through Draco’s walls. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was unsurprised when Draco immediately stiffened. The blonde once again took a long gulp of wine, his eyes flickering around the room, as though determining how much he could say with muggles in such close proximity. He placed his glass down on the table and heaved a small sigh, his eyes landing back on Harry’s face with an expression of resignation.  
“I no longer belong in the wizarding world; I don’t think I ever did in the first place.” He murmured, almost sadly. His expression changed, taking on a fiercer edge, as did his tone, “I like my life now, and I’m not prepared for it to be invaded by everything that comes with you.”  
Harry’s stomach clenched at the dig and willed it not to show on his face. How very well he knew that his presence generally came with undesirable effects for those it touched. He thought of Ginny who seemed to become more miserable the longer she stayed married to him, and Ron and Hermione, whom had slowly become so distant that he only really saw them at Weasley family gatherings. It made Harry’s heart hurt that the family he once thought he belonged to had drifted further from his reach. It suddenly occurred to him how very lonely he was.  
Draco shifted uncomfortably the longer Harry remained silent, and a drop of icy guilt slid into the pit of his stomach that maybe he had hit a nerve. Harry had yet to mention anything about himself and a thought occurred to Draco that fell from his lips before he even thought it through, “You know thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without Weasel and Granger self-righteously flanking you,” he smirked, letting some of the schoolboy drawl he’d affected as a youth drip into his tone. Harry rolled his eyes, unaffected by the remark. “and didn’t you marry the Weasley girl?” Draco added as an afterthought.  
That was the nerve and he’d apparently hit it with a sledge-hammer. Harry glanced away, swallowing so hard that his Adam’s apple appeared to rigidly press out of the soft skin of his throat. His limbs seemed to retract towards his body; his arms folding against his chest and his legs jerking under the table which he’d tried to pass off as shifting his position on his seat. Draco would be lying if he’d said he wasn’t intrigued.  
Harry, realising his gaff, scrambled to play it down, “Were you hoping to have a little pow wow with Ron and Hermione too, then?” Harry laughed, a false brightness colouring his tone; the smile that sprang onto his face didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
Draco sneered, genuine repulsion stealing over him. Even after all these years, he still detested Weasley and the buck-toothed know-it-all Mudblood, “Not even if my life depended on it,” he growled, distaste evident on his smooth pale features.  
Harry smirked and raised his glass in a mock salute, “I’m sure the feeling is quite mutual,” he laughed before draining his glass of the last vestiges of alcohol.  
Draco watched the brunette, calculating. Harry had obviously chosen his words carefully, leading with Ron and Hermione in order to distract him which almost worked. However, Draco noticed that, though Harry had answered part of his query, he had left out any mention of his wife. Draco narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the man before him. Something really wasn’t right with The Boy Who Lived, and Draco wanted to know what it was. “So, what of your ginger wife then?” he asked, watching Harry closely.  
Harry visibly cringed, though deftly covered it by lifting his hand and scratching at the back of his neck. He shrugged, “What about her?” he asked apparently aiming for nonchalance, however, his eyes gave him away by glancing around them, uncomfortably.  
Draco felt his interest pique even higher. However, as he registered Harry’s obvious discomfort, he theorised that life as a muggle had made him more Hufflepuff than Slytherin, and he found himself sympathising with the brunette. He dropped the subject, though filed the information away to mull over later.  
Glancing at Harry’s empty glass, Draco grasped for a subject change, “Would you like another Goblin piss, or have you fulfilled whatever weird desire you had to annoy me?” he drawled, a smirk sliding across his face.  
Harry’s mouth quirked into a grateful lopsided smile and he visibly relaxed upon realising he didn’t have to answer Draco’s question. The blonde, much to his chagrin, felt his own lips begin to form a small smile before he rolled his eyes, lifted his glass and downed the rest of his wine. He was beginning to feel the tingly warmth that accompanied alcohol travel through his body and reminded himself not to drink much more, otherwise Harry may as well have spiked him with veritaserum for the effects wine had on Draco’s inhibitions. Probably best not to start spilling his life secrets to his childhood enemy in the middle of a muggle pub!  
“Yeah, go on then, Malfoy, why not?” Harry asked rhetorically, sliding his glass over to Draco with an expression Draco couldn’t quite read.  
Harry watched Draco rise from his seat and saunter over to the bar. It surprised him how gracefully the other man moved and he cringed as he considered his own bumbling, clumsy gait. He heaved a small sigh of relief that he hadn’t needed to discuss Ginny. Somehow the blonde man had understood the subject wasn’t one Harry wanted to delve into, and rather than press the matter as he would have done in his youth, the former Slytherin had been courteous and…considerate. Harry bit his lip as he fought to laugh out loud because there was no way Draco Malfoy was considerate!  
“One goblin piss,” Draco smirked, depositing the pint glass in front of Harry. He sank down to perch on the edge of his own seat, shifting his bag when it got in the way. He seemed to have an internal battle with himself before he began to unbutton his coat and with one liquid movement, he extricated himself from his coat before laying it neatly over the chair beside him.  
Harry watched him over the top of his glass, resisting the urge to smile. He felt he must have won some of the blonde’s trust as he had clearly resigned himself to being at the pub long enough to remove his coat.  
Once he was adequately comfortable, Draco glanced around the pub before focusing his gaze on Harry. Harry placed his glass back on the table and sat back in his chair in a display of being relaxed.  
“So, Malfoy, what’s your story?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded as genuinely interested as he felt. Since the little scene with the child outside the coffee shop had taken place, Harry’s curiosity had been steadily climbing and he could no longer hold it in. “I mean, a muggle teacher; that is literally the last thing I’d expect you to be doing.” Harry laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation.  
Draco, on the other hand, wasn’t laughing. He was clutching his wine glass so tightly the glass threatened to break. Harry noticed his jaw had clenched and quickly began to back pedal. “I didn’t mean that as an insult, I just meant you’d never really shown any indication at school that you…”  
“You didn’t know me at school! You only knew what I wanted you to know, which was as little as possible.” Draco’s voice lashed out, his grey eyes flashing. Harry raised his eyebrows and remained quiet, he held eye contact with the blonde until Draco visibly ran out of steam. Regret appeared on the blonde’s features for a fraction of a second before it was hidden by impassiveness.  
“Look, that probably wasn’t the best way to say it, but I’d genuinely like to know.” Harry tried again, “I can see why you’d teach because you were ridiculously clever at school, but what made you decide to teach muggles?”  
Draco gave Harry a long look, waging an internal battle with himself. He had no shame about his life, but he was wary about sharing the details of it with the saviour himself! He lifted his wine glass and took a long drink, buying himself some time to consider his reply. Harry, to his credit, appeared to be doing his best not to push him.  
“I told you, I don’t belong in the wizarding world; I’ve been living as a muggle for the last 10 years, so, it was just natural that I’d teach at a muggle school.” He murmured, drinking from his glass again as his nerves jangled. He forced himself to remain calm as Harry spluttered incoherently and reasoned that it did sound pretty unbelievable.  
“Define ‘living as a muggle’?” Harry asked, his tone incredulous, his drink all but forgotten. He assumed when Draco had first mentioned living as muggle he’d meant living in the muggle world discreetly as a wizard…  
Draco smirked, “I don’t use magic. I haven’t since I left Hogwarts.” He said, raising one of his perfect silver eyebrows, “I went to muggle university and trained to be a teacher the muggle way.” He added with a shrug, watching Harry’s face closely. He had to give the former Gryffindor props, he was handling the information relatively well, all things considered.  
Harry’s brain felt as though it was buzzing like a swarm of angry wasps and he did his best not to let it show on his face as Malfoy was watching him intently. Well, he guessed, the magical static he’d felt radiating from Draco earlier now made sense, considering he’d said he didn’t use magic. He tried to process the unbelievable information the blonde had given him but needed to know more.  
“You went to muggle university? How?” Harry asked knowing that Draco wouldn’t have been able to put Hogwarts on his application.  
Draco shifted his body in what Harry could only describe as embarrassment, and looked down at his drink, “Okay, maybe I used magic a little in the beginning to sort out documents, but I hardly had a choice.” He said, apparently feeling the need to justify himself. “Everything else was all done properly though before you go thinking I cheated in any way!” he added, his expression deadly serious.  
Harry felt his eyebrows disappear into his fringe, “That didn’t even occur to me, Malfoy,” Harry said honestly, surprised by Draco’s obvious need for him to know he was playing by his own rules, and the blonde visibly relaxed, seemingly believing that Harry understood.  
“How has it been then; fitting in with the muggles?” Harry asked. He couldn’t help imagining Draco signing paperwork with a crayon or shouting down a telephone like Ron had done in their youth, unfamiliar with how it worked.  
“It was obviously quite a learning curve; I made a lot of mistakes at first, and it took me a few years to get my magic under control,” He supplied, gazing at his wine glass as he traced the rim with his index finger. He lost himself for a moment in memories of him attempting you use muggle technology for the first time. He shuddered as he remembered using the underground transport system back in the early days. An elderly muggle man had taken pity on him and helped him navigate the ticket turnstiles and circled the stops he needed on a map with a kind smile.  
Harry cleared his throat and Draco jolted back to reality, blinking several times as he focused back on the brunette. Harry smiled; his eyes narrowed as though trying to puzzle something out. “You didn’t hear me, did you?” he asked, amused. When Draco continued to look at him, Harry smiled brighter and repeated himself, “Have you had many outbursts? I’ve seen the affects of supressed magic and it can be pretty dangerous.” He said, turning serious.  
Draco shook his head gently, “I’m not supressing my magic; I’m just choosing not to use it, there’s a difference.” He informed, his tone tight. Harry had a feeling he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning and rather than push him for an answer to his query, Harry shifted the topic.  
“How did you come to be teaching primary school?” Harry asked, his tone light. He’d liked the way the former Slytherin had interacted with the muggle child before and he smiled as he remembered the boy beaming at the blonde.  
“I had to do a mandatory placement during university and my tutor took pity on me and set me up at her husband’s primary school.” Draco laughed lightly, “I loved the innocence of the children there, untouched by social conformity and just happy with being alive. It was refreshing.”  
Harry was impressed with blonde’s honesty as he explained his life choices. The smile that kept tugging at his soft pale lips had Harry wanting to return it, his chest felt so light he thought he might start floating. How very odd.  
Harry contributed little to the conversation and when he did, he was cautious of mentioning the magical world due to the way Draco would clam up and glance at the exit when he did so. Harry was simply content with allowing the blonde to chat about his life as a muggle, and noticed the more wine he drank, the more open the blonde seemed to become.  
So, it came as a surprise when Draco voiced a question of his own.  
“So, come on then, what’s the deal with you and your Weasley wife?” Draco asked, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. He watched Harry closely, noting with interest how the brunette cringed again at the mention of his wife.  
“Who says there’s a deal?” Harry slurred, making an exaggerated expression of confusion with his face.  
“Well, the way you act weird…well, weirder for you, whenever I mention her. I lived behind a mask for 18 years, I know when someone is deflecting.” Draco explained, gazing at Harry empathetically.  
Harry turned his head away, annoyed that Malfoy was pushing the subject when he obviously knew he was uncomfortable with it. “It’s complicated, Malfoy” Harry said, irritated that his tone was more pleading than the harshness he’d been aiming for. It seemed to spur the former Slytherin on.  
“Complicated? That’s a cop-out.” He spat, echoing the boy he’d been at school. He seemed to be personally insulted by Harry’s refusal to share when he had shared so much himself. “If you’re not going to be honest, why are we sat here?”  
Harry felt his face heat up as Draco pointed out the hypocrisy. He didn’t know why he said it, but his mouth opened up and the words tumbled out before he could even stop them, “We both sleep with other men. Honest enough for you!”  
A deafening silence settled over the table as Draco absorbed what the brunette had just shared, whilst Harry could only hear the rushing of blood in his ears. He stood abruptly, knocking the table and causing the remaining drinks to slosh about unsteadily. Draco’s hands flew out to catch the glasses, however Draco’s wine glass toppled over, spilling its contents over the edge of the table. “I’ll get you another drink.” Harry said in a rush before making a hasty retreat to the bar.  
Draco sat frozen at the table, still holding the glasses, in shock at Harry’s confession. He looked up to watch the other man at the bar, who’s head was in his hands, and tried to process the information he’d just received before he came back. Had Harry just confessed that he slept with men?! And the Weasley wife slept with other men, too? Why were they even married?! Draco thought incredulously.  
He watched Harry make his return to the table, a tray in his hand that trembled ever so slightly. Draco tried to keep his expression as clear as possible, however when he spotted the contents of the tray, he felt his eyes bulge slightly.  
Harry had brought a bottle of wine as well as 4 shots of some sort of clear alcohol, and 2 glasses of whiskey with ice.  
Harry kept his gaze focused on the tray, avoiding eye contact with Draco, “If you want me to be honest, I need alcohol.” He explained, chancing a glance at Draco as he sank into his seat. Draco’s eyebrows were raised in what could only be read as concern for his blood alcohol ratio as his eyes flickered to the tray and back to Harry. “Lots of it.” Harry added, feeling slightly less terrified of Draco shrieking gay slurs at him as he watched the blonde react to the amount of alcohol on the table. “Have a shot.” Harry said, pushing a shot glass into Draco’s hand before picking one up himself and draining it in one mouthful.  
Draco watched Harry down his shot like a pro and glanced at the one he held in his hand. He didn’t really drink anything other than wine, so he was sure he was going to look a complete idiot when the unknown liquid connected with his taste buds. It didn’t help that Harry had already moved on to one of the glasses of whiskey. With a deep breath, Draco threw the shot into his mouth and swallowed quickly, gagging unceremoniously.  
“Merlin, that is hideous!” Draco choked, his eyes watering as the alcohol burned a trail down his throat, He coughed, closing his eyes momentarily, before reaching for another drink to wash his mouth out. Unfortunately, he had picked up the other glass of whiskey and swallowed it before he’d even realised what he’d picked up.  
His eyes flew open as realisation dawned on him when yet more foul-tasting alcohol made its way down his oesophagus and he caught sight of Harry’s stunned expression, though his mouth seemed to be twitching convulsively as though he desperately wanted to laugh. Draco coughed behind his hand, mortified by how ridiculously he was handling the situation. This was why he stuck to coffee most of the time!  
“The shot or me and Ginny?” Harry asked in a small voice, replying to Draco’s off hand comment whilst sipping at his whiskey calmly, catching Draco off-guard. The blonde, who had been focused on keeping the contents of his stomach where it belonged, fixed Harry with a hard stare.  
What was he supposed to say; The idea of you and the female Weasley turns my stomach and I don’t know why you’d want to continue this charade?!  
Draco blinked, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably, “Both!” He answered honestly. His head swam for a moment as the affects of the different types of alcohol began to make themselves known, and he took a deep steadying breath before extending his answer, “Why do you live like that?”  
Harry was prepared for the question, having asked it of himself numerous times, and reminded Draco of his earlier statement, “It’s one of those things that comes with me,” he murmured, watching the blonde’s reaction.  
Draco looked down at the table as Harry repeated his earlier comment, aware that the former Gryffindor was deflecting again. The alcohol currently swirling around his system pulled a little more at Draco’s focus and his vision swam violently. He pressed the balls of his hands into his closed eyes, before blinking a few times. He caught a glimpse of the smirk of Harry’s face and ploughed forward with his questioning, “So you cheat on each other?” he asked, focusing once again on the brunette’s, now stricken, face.  
Harry busied himself by opening the bottle of wine he had gotten Draco and pouring him a glass. He swirled the liquid around for a few moments before handing it to the blonde, “I don’t really see it as cheating,” he replied, his eyes focused on the glass rather than Draco.  
Draco automatically accepted the glass; however, he shook his head incredulously at Harry’s statement. He seemed about to interrupt when Harry elaborated, “Cheating implies that we actually have a relationship. Which we don’t.”  
“Why are you still with her?” Draco asked candidly. He felt like he was reaching the parameters of what his brain could tolerate whilst so thoroughly intoxicated.  
“Because I’m Harry Potter.” Harry answered, sombrely. He struck a miserable figure, hunched over the table, clutching his whiskey glass like a lifeline. He looked older than his years.  
Confusion clouded Draco’s mind as he processed Harry’s response, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.  
Harry pushed a shot glass towards Draco and picked up his own. Sensing the coming protest from the blonde, Harry lifted his glass with a loaded look, “You want honesty…” He murmured before swallowing his shot in one mouthful; it irritated Draco that Harry didn’t even seem to flinch. The Slytherin pushed his shot glass towards Harry, who obviously needed it more than he did, and the brunette simply picked it up and sank it. Draco noted with triumph how, on this occasion, Harry squeezed his eyes closed.  
“I don’t do the things I want; I do as I’m told.” He murmured, pain lacing his tone. Draco felt his stomach clench at the sound, “I don’t think I’ve ever made a single decision regarding my own life. I fought Voldemort because it was expected, I become an auror because it was expected, I married Ginny because it was expected!” Harry continued, gazing at Draco’s face like a drowning man would gaze at a life preserver. His voice dropped to whisper, “If I’m not The Boy Who Lived, the head of the Auror office, or Ginny’s husband…who am I? Because I don’t know.”  
Draco met Harry’s gaze and held it, offering him a tentative smile. “You’re Harry Potter.” He breathed as though it explained everything.  
Harry’s eyes slid closed as he heaved a weary sigh “That’s the problem, I’m Harry Potter.” Harry’s head was in his hands again, his fingers laced through his raven hair, and Draco briefly wondered if that was the reason his hair was always such a mess.  
“You need to stop being the Harry Potter everyone wants you to be.” Draco said after a stretch of moments. His eyes swam in and out of focus again and he stared intently at the top of Harry’s head in an attempt to gather himself.  
Harry barked a humourless laugh from within his pity huddle before lifting his head, his eyes locking with Draco’s “That’s easier said than done, Malfoy,” he moaned.  
Harry’s remark was met by a look of disbelief from the other man, “Is it? I’m Draco Malfoy, former deatheater and muggle hater; I was everything my parents wanted of me.” He all but growled at Harry. Shame sparkled in the depths of his stormy grey eyes, however he seemed intent in holding eye contact, “Who am I now? An anonymous primary school teacher who worships his muggle kids and who’s happy. No magic, no contact with the wizarding world, and I’m so Happy.” Draco smiled, unable to stop himself as he thought about how different his life was from the miserable childhood he’d had to endure.  
Harry gazed at the blonde with wide eyed, “I wouldn’t even know where to start, Malfoy.” He admitted.  
Draco’s smile, if possible, brightened, “My name is Draco, maybe start there.” He laughed lightly before holding his hand out. Harry’s eyes flickered from Draco’s smile, to his hand, and back to his smile again. He felt his own mouth pull at the edges as the feeling of déjà vu washed over him, before he lifted his own hand and slipped it into Draco’s.  
“Draco,” Harry smiled, gripping the other man’s long, pale digits.  
“Harry.” Draco whispered. He could feel callouses on Harry’s palm, and Draco couldn’t help but admire the contrast between his alabaster skin and Harry’s tan. “You finally shook my hand.” Draco added, releasing his hold a beat too late, choosing to brush over the weird handshake from the day prior when he thought he was going to die from fright.  
Harry pulled his own hand back, flexing his fingers to dispel the tingle of magical residue left on his skin, and smirked at his remark., “Well, you’re less of a douche now, so…” he shrugged, his smirk morphing back into a smile. He picked up the remainder of his whiskey and drained the glass.  
Draco’s eyebrow slid upwards, “Do you usually drink this much?” He asked impulsively, his gaze fixed on Harry’s face, and the brunette answered without thinking.  
“Yes, I hate my life, remember.” He said, flatly, before shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by his own candour. He noted the collection of empty glasses on the table, feeling a little ashamed until he realised they weren’t just his own, “You’ve not done too badly, either…”  
Draco’s eyes dropped to the table and then to his watch, and he willed his eyes to focus on the numbers it read. Dread washed over him as he took in the lateness of the hour knowing it was a school night, “Well, I’m sure to pay for it in the morning which will now definitely be sponsored by paracetamol.” He moaned as he contemplated the hangover he was sure to have during morning assembly, before standing and pulling his coat on. The amount of alcohol he’d consumed hit him, causing him to sway on the spot.  
Harry felt his stomach clench painfully tight, as though it were about to apparate out of his body, at the prospect of Draco’s impending departure and he quickly pulled himself to his feet, stumbling a little in his inebriated state. “Can I have your number?” he asked in a rush, pulling his phone from his pocket and thrusting it at Draco.  
Draco’s surprise was evident on his face as he watched his former enemy fumble with his mobile phone. A thrill of pleasure shot through Draco’s body at the idea of Harry being desperate to stay in contact with him, and he forced himself to stop the images his mind began providing him with. Harry was a married man, after all, worst still a Gryffindor!  
“Why?” Draco couldn’t help but ask. He accepted Harry’s phone but made no move to enter his details until the other man provided some clarity.  
Harry looked at Draco for a long moment, and he seemed to all the world as though he were completely lost before he shook his head and stood a little straighter, “Because I’d like to find you again without stalking coffee shops.“ he answered boldly  
Draco felt a warmth begin to grow from within the pit of his stomach and his burning gaze searched Harry’s face. He waited a long moment for Harry to laugh but it didn’t happen, and the only conclusion Draco could come to was that he was being serious. Breaking eye contact with a small, exhilarated breath, Draco keyed his details into Harry’s phone before swiftly calling his own number ensuring he had Harry’s number too.  
Harry couldn’t believe his boldness had paid off and he smiled as he watched the other man. Draco glanced up and caught him, a small, shy smile reflected on his own face. He held the phone out for Harry, and as he reached to take it, Draco didn’t let go but gazed into Harry’s emerald eyes, “Now you can always find me.” He breathed. He released the phone and stepped away, “Bye, Harry.”  
“See you again soon, Draco.” Harry replied breathlessly, and he watched the blonde until he disappeared out the door.  
As Harry lay in bed later on that night, he smiled as he gazed at Draco’s name and number in his phone and drifted off into the best night sleep he’d had since he’d been at Hogwarts.  
To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s chapter 3! Not sure how the UK school references are going to translate in other countries, for example – primary school is for children aged between 4-11 years old, with Draco teaching year 2 which would be for children aged 6/7yrs. There are references to religion in this chapter that may offend some, I just want to say that its not my intention at all! It’s religion viewed by a pure-blooded wizard whom sees god the way muggles would see Merlin. Please don’t yell at me.

Draco’s head thumped; his stomach churning unpleasantly with each beat, and he swallowed convulsively to stop the vomit that laid in wait from travelling up his throat. He was hanging. Harry Potter certainly had a lot to answer for, he thought tersely as the sound of children’s laughter drifted in through his classroom window.

Draco very rarely drank alcohol, especially on a school night, so he’d never really felt the need to be prepared for it’s after-affects. He rummaged around in his bag and found a stray strip of painkillers at the bottom and sighed at the prospect of the coming relief.

As he pulled the tablets out of his bag, Draco noticed the small light at the top of his phone flashing, signalling a notification, and he smiled at how convenient this piece of muggle technology was. Muggles really were the most resourceful of people. His father had literally been so far off the mark when he had dubbed them ‘trolls with jobs’.  
Deciding to quickly check it out before his students entered the building, Draco flicked his fingers across the screen with one hand whilst extracting the pills from the packaging with the other.

The phone dropped to the table with a reverberating clunk as it slipped from his fingers, and Draco scrambled to pick it back up again.  
The name across the front of the screen caused his stomach to churn for a completely different reason that it had moments before, and a smirk tugged at his face at the word in brackets beside it.

Harry Potter (Scarhead)

Draco chuckled under his breath as he remembered adding his nickname for Harry at school against his contact, and he closed his eyes as the movement caused a pain to shoot across his forehead.  
Draco reached across his desk and picked up his water bottle, uncapping it as he opened the message from Harry.

'Are you suffering as much as I am today? You’ll say no just to spite me, won’t you.'

Draco snorted at the text, rolling his eyes as he imagined Harry writing it. It was such a self-righteous Gryffindor message, he could almost hear the brunette saying it. The warmth in Draco’s stomach that he’d experienced the evening before ignited again as he thought about Harry, and he shook his head feeling ridiculous. The pain in his head presented itself again, and Draco threw the painkillers into his mouth along with some water, gagging a little as the pills grazed the back of his throat, before he began to compose a reply.

'Fresh as a daisy. Sorry.'

He smirked, knowing full well Harry would call him out, but he couldn’t resist the pull of sparring with the other man.

'Thought we were being honest…'

Came Harry’s immediate reply, and Draco shook his head at the former Gryffindor’s predictability. A trickle of guilt entered his consciousness as he recalled calling Harry out for the very same thing, and with a smile he replied honestly.

'Okay, maybe the daisy is missing a few petals!'

'Ha! Knew it!'

Draco smiled as he realised Harry was obviously waiting for replies to be responding so quickly, and his Slytherin roots considered waiting a while to maintain a little dignity. His curiosity won out, however.

'Did you want something, Harry?'

Harry’s reply didn’t come immediately, and Draco swore under his breath, wishing he had listened to his instincts. As changed as he was, he still had his pride. He glanced at the clock, knowing he had little time left before the school day would begin, when his phone lit up again. A rush of excitement hit, which he chose to ignore.

'Last night was…interesting; I’d like to do it again.'

The excitement rushed unimpeded, 'I’m still undecided if you’re on drugs or not…' he replied, desperately trying to play it cool whilst the warmth in his stomach spread through his body.

'Ha! No drugs, Auror’s honour!'

Draco read Harry’s reply and felt as though a plug had been pulled in his stomach. He’d been so swept away by the thrill of sparring with Harry in muggle circumstances, he’d forgotten the other man was still a part of the magical world. A misery he didn’t quite understand extinguished the warmth within him leaving a chill in its wake, causing goose bumps to erupt over his skin.

'I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Harry.' He typed, hitting the send button and dropping his phone on the table. He glanced around his classroom and wondered if he could allow magic back into his life. His phone flashed ridiculously quickly with Harry’s reply, however Draco waited to open it. The sound of the morning bell ringing filled the air, and he winced as it invaded his reverie, his still tender head throbbing in rhythm with it.

Cursing under his breath, Draco pushed his phone off his desk and into the waiting open drawer, before closing it with a thud. Taking a deep breath and rearranging his face into a warm smile, Draco greeted his students as they filed into his classroom, and he realised with glance towards his desk that hid his phone, that he wouldn’t give up his muggle life for the world. Including Harry.

***

'Why not?'

Harry’s fingers flew across his phone screen, the goofy smile he’d been wearing sliding from his face. The text exchange had been going better than Harry could have hoped until it had just stopped.

He had checked his phone for a reply so often it was almost like a compulsion, and he shook his head each time, feeling stupid for putting his intentions out there so quickly. He wasn’t even sure what Draco’s deal was in reference to sexuality as he’d had a string of girlfriends at school, but there was no denying there was a spark between them.

By mid-morning, Harry was in a foul mood. He walked into his office in the ministry like a morose child, ignoring his secretary and slamming the door behind him. The stack of paperwork on his desk wobbled ominously, and the paper plane memos whizzing around the ceiling bumped into each as the breeze from the door rippled through the room.

Harry threw himself onto his desk chair and summoned the pepper-up potion that sat inside one of his filing cabinets, uncapping it and swallowing a mouthful in one movement. This had been a standard procedure for years; Harry turning up late for work, hiding out in his office and treating the after-effects of the alcohol he had ingested the night before. It was a cycle Harry had found himself locked in.

He glanced once again at his phone and scowled as he noted the blank screen. Resisting the urge to throw a curse at it, Harry shoved the offending technology in his pocket and summoned the memo planes to his desk, deciding that the only way to stop himself going crazy waiting for a reply from Draco was to actually get some work done.

The day passed agonisingly slowly, and Harry was beginning to miss being shut off from the world as he had been before bumping into Draco. He wondered when he’d become so disillusioned with his life that he’d actively stopped participating in it altogether and was surprised when he realised it was since he’d left Hogwarts.

By the end of the day, the pile of paperwork on Harry’s desk was significantly smaller than it had been when he’d started, and he’d still received no reply from Draco. His foul mood had morphed into a weird hybrid of misery and grief as he considered the tentative friendship the two men had started the previous night being over already. With one more filthy look at his phone, Harry decided to go home, stopping by at an off-licence on the way to buy the strongest bottle of whiskey they sold.

***

As the bell rang signalling the end of the school day, Draco waved his students off with a tired smile which fell to a frown as soon as the last child left the room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at Harry’s last text again. He’d spent his whole lunch hour trying to think of a response and had given up when he had 5 minutes left to eat his lunch.

He spent the journey home to his flat thinking about what it was he actually wanted to tell the brunette. He didn’t want to say no to going out with Harry again, but he didn’t want the resulting magic invading his life either.

He made his way into his flat, carrying out his usual rituals; removing his shoes at the door mat and placing them in a drawer, hanging his bag on its hook and then removing his coat, inspecting it for any dirt before hanging it next to his bag. His mind drifted back to thoughts of Harry and he moved around the small flat on autopilot. He placed a plate of leftovers in the nifty microwave and stood back whilst it rotated. He remembered the first time he’d used a microwave; it had taken him over an hour to put the kitchen back in order after the waves emanating from the contraption had sent his magic haywire, causing all the kitchen cabinet doors to fly open and jars and tins to fly out across the room. Since then he always made sure he had control of himself and took a step back as a precautionary measure.

With his meal and a glass of water, Draco made his way into the lounge, switching on the tv and letting the sounds it made fill the room as he settled into the couch. He ate slowly, his mind still firmly on the reply he needed to construct, and he decided he just needed to take his own advice and be honest with Harry.

'I’ve left magic behind, Harry, and you’re the embodiment of it.'

The speed of Harry’s reply caused an ice cube of guilt to settle in Draco’s stomach, and he wondered if the brunette had been as apprehensive about receiving it as Draco had been about sending it.

'There’s more to me than magic. Give me a chance to prove it. Please.'

Draco’s eyebrows flew up and an almost hysterical laugh escaped his mouth. He was almost sure his previous message would have been the end of their new... whatever it was. Alas, Harry’s reply made Draco feel as though all may not be lost. He smiled as he remembered the job he needed to carry out the following day for work, and figured it was the perfect situation to find out if there was more to Harry than magic.

'Meet me outside St. Mary’s primary school at 10:30am tomorrow, wrap up warm, we’ll be visiting a church.'

Draco smirked at how vague the message was and wondered if Harry’s Gryffindor roots would make him try and fight against the command. He smiled when the resulting reply simply read You won’t be disappointed, and deep down Draco pleaded to every imaginary deity that Harry was right.

***

Draco nervously ran through his class’s schedule with the supply teacher who would be covering his class whilst he went to risk assess the church they’d be using for the annual nativity performance. He adjusted and readjusted his sweater every few minutes, wondering if he should have gone with something a little more smart before scoffing at himself; he’d be wearing a coat the whole time he was with Harry anyway, but he couldn’t shake the need to be as polished as possible. He kept his hands away from his hair considering it was, for once, behaving, though he did keep checking his reflection in the mirrored ‘feelings and emotions’ display at the back of the room to ensure it was still in place.

The closer to 10:30 the clock crept, the faster Draco’s heart thrummed in his chest. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was hoping to accomplish on this little excursion with Harry, but he was ridiculously nervous, nonetheless.

When the time came, Draco shrugged on his coat and scarf, and with a warning to the class to be on their best behaviour, he left the room and headed towards the driveway with the mantra ‘Be cool!’ chanting in his head.

As he made his way down the driveway, Draco spotted Harry, casually leaning against the gate with his back to him. He smiled as he took in the woolly hat with a pom-pom sat snuggly over his head, hiding his mop of dark hair, and chuckled that Harry had taken his warning of ‘wrap up warm’ completely seriously.

At the sound of Draco’s approach, Harry stood straighter and turned, a dazzling smile on his face. In his hands were two take away coffee cups with steam spiralling out of the spouts on top. Draco’s mouth watered at the prospect of hot coffee, and he returned Harry’s smile with a lop-sided one of his own.

“Hi!” Harry welcomed, his smile growing even wider, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth, and held out one of the coffee cups, “I figured hot coffee is a commodity as a teacher, so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Thank you.” Draco said gratefully, accepting the coffee and smiling as the warmth radiated through the cup to his cold hand. “It’s definitely a rarity.”

Harry pointedly looked past Draco in the direction of the school behind him, “So, this is your school? It’s cute; nothing like the hell hole I went to,” he said, his face scrunching up as he remembered the primary school where Dudley and his friends had tortured him.

Draco turned, glancing at the building he knew better than his own home, and he smiled warmly, “I’m sure the kids wouldn’t agree, but I like it.” He chuckled, “So, are you ready? It’s a bit of walk.” Draco explained, apologetically.

Harry turned back to the blonde and pointed to his hat, “I’m wrapped up; let’s do this!” he agreed, stepping forward. He then glanced at Draco, “Which way?” he asked with a laugh.

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry’s Gryffindor eagerness before pointing to the right and shifting his body to show he was setting off. Harry fell into step on his left hand side, sipping at his coffee with his smile still very much in place. Draco eyed him surreptitiously and wondered if the other man was making a point of being upbeat to counteract the sullenness he’d displayed during their drinking session. He couldn’t deny that Harry’s face was really something to look at, even if he was doing it slyly.

“So, were you being serious about the church?” Harry asked, confusion evident in his tone. Draco laughed and glanced at the other man, and found the confusion also painted across his expression.

“The children do a nativity performance for their parents at Christmas, and I managed to convince the Head teacher to do it at the local church.” Draco explained, looking at Harry shyly. “I just think it’s more aesthetically pleasing.” He added with a shrug, “Anyway, I need to walk the route there and check the building out to make sure it’s safe and accessible, and all that.”

Draco spoke animatedly about how surprised he’d been when he’d learned the muggles worshiped an imaginary man in the sky, and how he had to work out what it all meant when he was told he had to have his class perform their own show. Harry ducked his head to hide the fact he was grinning as the blonde glanced up at the sky suspiciously every time he mentioned God, figuring the other man would probably take it the wrong way.

“I was a donkey in my nativity.” Harry laughed, remembering the itchy costume he’d be forced to wear. “My cousin, Dudley, had been a king and my Aunt Petunia had made sure his costume was as majestic as an actual king’s. She used an old potato sack for mine. Reckon she searched for the itchiest one, too. She recorded the performance on their new video camera and told me to stay at the back so I didn’t ruin it” He explained, shaking his head at how petty the woman had been.

Draco stopped walking and gazed at Harry, who realised a few steps later that the other man was no longer beside him and turned to see why he’d stopped. “What?” Draco’s small voice asked, a line appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned.

Harry dithered, unsure of what he’d said wrong, and he bit his lip uncertainly, “What?” he countered.

“Why would your aunt do that?” Draco asked, continuing to stare at Harry as though he’d grown another head.

Harry smiled sadly and glanced away, breaking eye contact. He shrugged stiffly, fiddling with the coffee cup he still held in his hands, “Because she hated me. They all did. I was ‘the freak’ who encroached on their nice, normal lives. They tortured me at every opportunity.” He explained, picking at the cup’s carboard sleeve. “My bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco’s eyes widened and he pressed his lips together to form a hard line, before he began walking again. Harry was unsure if he’d upset the other man which worried him because he had no idea how to fix it if he had. Harry caught up to Draco and made a show of trying to look at his expression, and when the blonde refused to acknowledge him, Harry caught his arm and pulled him to a stop.

“Did I offend you?” Harry asked, genuine confusion in his tone. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously.

Draco’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, “You think you offended me?” he asked, wondering if Harry was making fun of him, “For real?” he added.

Harry swallowed, realising he still held Draco’s arm in his hand, and he felt bolstered by the fact Draco hadn’t pulled away. “You’re mad.” He whispered, “I don’t know why.”

“I’m sad, Harry. No child should be treated like that.” Draco breathed, his grey eyes, fierce. He took a deep breath and shook his head, “We need to keep moving, I need to be back at school by lunch.” He added, his eyes sliding down to look pointedly at Harry’s hand still on his arm.

Harry cleared his throat, lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, before turning and pointing down the street, “Right, let’s go.” He mumbled.

They walked in an awkward silence the rest of the way to the church, and once there Harry watched Draco as he gazed around in awe. He seemed fascinated by the religious objects and artwork scattered around, and he touched everything, even the things labelled Do Not Touch. Harry laughed softly each time the blonde did this, especially as he’d glance around to see if anyone was watching before he did it. He was like a naughty schoolboy himself instead of the teacher.

Harry drew up next to Draco as he was inspecting a collection of candles, some lit and some not and found him frowning, as though trying to work out why it was there. Harry leaned around him, picked up a taper and lit it with one of the other candles.

“They’re prayer candles,” Harry murmured softly, close to Draco’s ear; he was close enough that he felt the blonde shiver in response. “lighting a candle signifies a prayer.” Draco watched intently as Harry lit 4 candles, naming them as he did so. “Mum, Dad, Sirius, and Remus."

“So, the person you’re praying for has to be dead?” Draco asked, watching the candle’s flames take hold. Harry held the taper out as though asking Draco if he wanted to light any candles himself. “No, they don’t need to be dead, you can pray for anyone.”

Draco didn’t say anything as he lit his candle and Harry made no mention of it.

The two men stood in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Draco whispered. He felt Harry shift as though trying to look at his face, “For the way the muggles treated you, the way I treated you, the way the entire world has treated you.”

Draco glanced at Harry’s face and found him a breath away from his own. Harry’s gaze dropped to Draco’s lips and he unconsciously licked his own; Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, “I need to get back to work.” He murmured.

During the walk back to the school, the two men discussed muggle religion, with Draco asking Harry questions at a quick-fire rate. Harry did his best to answer as many of the questions as he could, however, joining the wizarding world at the age of 11 had halted any further religious education for him.

Upon Draco asking Harry how muggles could just blindly believe in something, he answered with the only analogy he had, “Well, I guess it’s like when Hagrid came to tell me I was a wizard. I had no idea! I mean, of course, I’d had magical outbursts but I didn’t realise that’s what it was; Like I said earlier, I was branded a freak and I believed it.” Harry said, castling a sideward glance at Draco whose jaw was clenched tight. “I blindly trusted Hagrid because I wanted to believe that there was something better beyond the awful life I had. I suppose it’s the same for people with their religion. Maybe.”

Draco considered what Harry had shared, his mind filing away the information of Harry’s past until he could properly process it, and tried to make a connection between magic and religion, “Maybe the miracles and passages from the bible are just muggles witnessing magic and having no other explanation for it than associating it with their god?” Draco pondered with a frown pulling his silver brows together.

Harry, who had been watching the blonde from the corner of his eye, smiled softly, “Yes, that’s what I think too.”

Draco begrudgingly thought about magic and how it seemed to follow him around. He wondered what it would be like to be a muggle; how the idea of magic would be something to marvel at rather than cringe away from, and how it would be something to obtain, to wish for. He looked at his hands and thought of the magic flowing within them.

“Do you miss it?” Harry asked softly, appearing to know exactly what Draco was thinking. He didn’t sound hopeful or mocking, just curious.

Draco dropped his hands, the walls he’d erected around his past sliding back into place, “It doesn’t matter if I miss it or not.” He breathed, trying to keep the annoyance he felt at himself from leaching out at Harry, “It caused nothing but pain for me, and I’m happier without it.” He added, glancing at the brunette, his expression willing the other man to understand.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. As they reached the gates, Draco turned to Harry, his expression apologetic, “Sorry.” He said simply, and Harry smiled.

“I do understand, you know.” Harry breathed, a small frown wrinkling his forehead, “I said there was more to me than magic and that I’d prove it. I haven’t done a very good job of that so far, by keep mentioning it.” He watched Draco’s expression which remained clear, and decided to make him a promise, “I won’t speak of it again. You have my word.”

Draco’s gaze flickered over Harry’s face. He heard the distant lunch bell ring from within the school and knew he needed to get back to work. He took a step backwards, his eyes still locked on the other man’s, “I lit my candle for you.” He breathed, and Harry’s eyebrows jerked up with surprise. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m choosing to believe in you.”

Before Draco could witness Harry’s reaction to his admission, he turned and began walking up the drive. Harry watched him, gobsmacked.

“Don’t let me down, Potter!”

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Some swearing in this chapter.

A week later, Harry lopped into the Ministry of Magic, a smile lighting up his freshly shaven face. He greeted the wizard who manned the Floo points brightly, exchanging comments about how cold the weather had turned, before making his way through the atrium towards the lifts that would take him to the Auror department.

He wandered through the department towards his office, and grinned when he caught sight of the expression on his secretary’s face.

“Mr Potter…?!” Flo spluttered, doing little to hide the surprise in her greeting as Harry strolled in before anyone else. He glanced around at the empty desks and realised he’d never been in the office this early before.

“Good morning, Flo!” Harry greeted warmly, a laugh in his voice, and the elderly woman’s eyes widened further as her surprise morphed into downright shock. She seemed to second-guess Harry’s reason for being so early when he usually didn’t arrive until gone 11am.

“You’re here…early, Mr Potter, is there a meeting I don’t know about?” Flo asked, her grey eyebrows knitting together as she summoned her diary, a hint of apprehension in her tone. 

Harry leaned across the desk Flo sat at and rested a hand on top of the diary, his expression soft when her eyes snapped up to meet his, “There’s no meeting, Flo, this is when I’m supposed to be here.” He laughed before ducking his head, guiltily.

Flo’s own stern face softened a little as she relaxed, and a smile pulled at her thin lips, “Well, yes,” she replied, appearing unsure of how to respond to this new, alert Harry. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual conversation with his own secretary, and he was overcome by shame at how morose he’d become.

“Well, I’m going to get started on the cases on my desk,” Harry smiled, pushing away from his secretary’s desk and playfully walking backwards to his office, just like he used to when he’d been a fresh-faced Auror, “Could I possibly have a coffee, please?” He asked cheekily, scrunching his nose up as though waiting to be scolded.

Flo rolled her eyes theatrically, playing along, and nodded, winking at him as she did so, “I’ll bring it through.” She promised

Harry thanked her before turning and entering his office. He moved round his desk and sank into his office chair, before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He flicked through his text conversations with Draco, wearing the same goofy smile he’d worn as he’d walked away from Draco outside his school a week prior.

The texts they had exchanged had come thick and fast after their trip to the church, and they had discussed everything from muggle politics to movies. Harry had discovered Draco was particularly fond of science fiction, especially Doctor Who, something Harry had sniggered about, though that hadn’t stopped him from brushing up on Doctor Who knowledge in case Draco wanted to talk about it.

He also found the blonde could become quite passionate about topics he cared about when they had discussed a headline about school funding that had been splashed across the newspapers, and he’d sent huge paragraphs about the injustice teachers faced and how under-paid and over-worked they were.

During their lengthy texting sessions, Harry had been absolutely sure not to mention or reference magic in any way as to not make Draco uncomfortable, and he found himself being less wizard Harry and more muggle Harry as a result. 

This seemed to spread out into his everyday life, though, he reasoned, he’d always been typically muggle anyway. He’d always done chores the muggle way, something Ginny had found ridiculous and time consuming, but he enjoyed doing tasks like cooking and cleaning by hand as it gave him a sense of purpose and control in a life that had always seemed so out of control. He shaved the muggle way and laundered his clothes and robes himself, something he’d been doing every day since bumping into Draco, and he was drinking less, which in turn meant he was sleeping better and waking feeling human rather than half dead.

“One coffee, Mr Potter, can I get you anything else?” Flo asked, breaking Harry’s reverie, and depositing a steaming mug on the desk. Harry looked up from his phone to his secretary with a smile and shook his head.

“No, thank you.” He replied, his eyes falling on a stack of paperwork, “Maybe come and check I haven’t been crushed by case files in an hour or so.” He laughed.

Harry worked through cases, distributing them to specific aurors to investigate and closing files that were completed. He frowned when he crossed one with a familiar name and his interest piqued.

Gregory Goyle – status: Wanted.

As Harry read through, he found that Goyle had served his sentence in Azkaban from crimes committed during the war and had disappeared since his release 8 years prior. He was thought to be moving in and out of the wizarding world, evading the Ministry and preventing them from keeping track of his movements.

Harry rested his head against his chair and looked up at the ceiling, and his mind conjured Draco’s face. He wondered how the blonde would react to news that his childhood friend was being investigated by Harry, because Harry would be investigating this case personally. 

Draco’s face frowned from within Harry’s mind’s eye, and he decided that he wouldn’t mention Goyle to the blonde, especially after he’d promised he wouldn’t speak of their world again. He began pulling apart the case file, reading through sightings and witness statements and began drawing up an investigation operation.

*********

The following Saturday morning, Draco woke to a message from Harry that was basically just a list of food, and he wondered if the brunette had accidently sent him his own shopping list. He began constructing a reply when a second message came through, 

‘Buy everything on this list, I have a recipe for you to try later’

Draco smiled, his stomach bubbling with excitement. He had mentioned to Harry a few days prior that he enjoyed cooking meals from scratch, and the brunette had preceded to send him a barrage of recipes. This was the first time he’d given a list of ingredients instead of the recipe, so Draco was intrigued.

He’d spent a majority of the afternoon marking and drawing up lesson plans for the following week, before he decided to brave the wind and rain, and make his way to the supermarket to buy the ingredients Harry had insisted he’d need for the evening’s meal.

He dashed to the tube, holding his hood securely around his head as the biting wind fought to reach his exposed skin, and he squinted as the rain blew into his eyes. It was miserable and cold; however, Draco had the prospect of being in the supermarket spurring him forward.

Draco loved muggle shops, especially the massive ones that sold everything a human could possibly need, and he looked forward to his weekly trips to stock up his supplies.   
He particularly enjoyed the cleaning product alley, with its hundreds of different flavoured cleaning liquids. He’d discovered ‘bleach’ liquid a few weeks into his life in student accommodation, when one of his fellow academics had found him trying to clean the bathroom with plain water. The girl, whose name, he was ashamed to realise, he’d forgotten, had assumed he was a rich boy who was used to a cleaning lady and had never had to do anything for himself, and had explained that different products did different things. He concurred that her assessment of him wasn’t too far off the mark, if you replaced the cleaning lady with a house-elf, however they tended to use scorgify spells to clean as opposed to liquids and soaps.

He’d fallen in love with the scents of each product and the way the chemicals burned at the back of his throat and made his eyes stream that made his home feel truly clean.   
Cleanliness had been important to Draco since before he’d started at Hogwarts. His life had been out of his control in every aspect for so long, that when he’d found he could clean something and get a sense of accomplishment from it that no one, not even his father, could diminish, he’d thrown himself at any task that presented itself. His dorm mates thought he was crazy and could never understand why he’d spend 45 minutes making his own bed when a house-elf could do it in seconds, but they didn’t understand that Draco needed to do it, and do it perfectly.

The discovery of bleach and disinfectant had made Draco’s need for perfection an obsession, to the point that he used them so often he’d ended up with chemical burns on his hands. However, the obsession was centred around his home, exclusively; he didn’t have the same need for perfection in his classroom, for example, however, as his life stabilised, the need to clean to such an extreme extent had settled, and his hands were once again burn free.

Draco spent his usual 20 or so minutes in the cleaning aisle before hurrying around the rest of the store, picking up the items on his list, before using the self-service checkout. He liked the self-service checkout; he found it fascinating that a computer dealt with his transaction, and it made him feel wonderfully ‘muggle’ when using them.

He hurried home, however, by the time he reached his front door he felt as though he could have swum the journey for how wet and cold he was. He showered and shrugged on his favourite sweats, allowing his pale hair to dry naturally before wandering into his sterile kitchen where he had set the ingredients to the mystery recipe on his kitchen counter, and he sent Harry a text saying he was ready for instructions. He wondered what recipe Harry was planning on sending over when a shrill sound emanated from his iPad. Draco spun around, dread filling him as he realised the tone signalled a facetime call and his stomach dropped out when he read Harry’s name.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He swore, putting his face in his hands and cringing as his fingers felt the ends of his hair frizzing as it dried. “Shit!” he swore again.

The ringing stopped and started again instantly, and Draco growled before taking a deep breath and tapping the answer button, being sure to have the camera pointing at the cabinets behind him. Harry’s impatient face burst across the screen which shifted quickly to a beaming smile which fell slightly as he took in the cabinets.

“Hello, Mr Malfoy? Where are you, it’s time for cookery class!” Harry laughed, his eyes narrowing in confusion when Draco failed to appear.

“I didn’t realise you’d be video calling.” Draco said in a small voice, “I was just expecting a recipe.” He added, aware of how accusing his tone was.

Harry bit his lip anxiously and his hand reached up behind his neck, “Er…yeah…sorry I…” he muttered, the confidence he’d had when he answered apparently disappearing, “I thought it’d be fun to cook together. It’s too much?” he guessed, his cheeks reddening.

Draco felt guilt grow in his chest, and he looked up at the ceiling, blowing out an irritated breath. Why did he have to do this when his hair was so terrible?!   
“I’ll go.” Harry continued quickly, obviously hearing Draco’s irritated breath, “I’ll just send over the recipe.”

“Wait!” Draco growled. He steeled himself, repeating in his head that Harry had seen in him in worst states in the past, shuddering when he remembered the ferret incident in fourth year, before he stepped in front of the camera, glaring at Harry’s face, “Don’t laugh.” He growled, his arms crossed over his chest, sullenly.

Harry’s eyes widened comically as he took in Draco’s appearance, and Draco pushed down the anxiety and embarrassment that was bubbling away under the surface. He bit the inside of his lip to stop the harsh words that he knew he’d spit if Harry continued to gawp like an idiot.

Draco breathed another irritated breath through his nose, “So, I’ll call you back, yeah? He prompted, shifting uncomfortably.

Harry’s nostrils flared and he cleared his throat tersely, “No!” he yelped, shaking his head, “No! Don’t. Stay!”

Draco’s eye narrowed as he tried to read Harry’s reaction, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to touch his hair in case it drew Harry’s attention to it. He knew how bad it looked, it was staring back at him from the small screen in the top right hand corner of Harry’s face, and he cursed the extra conditioner he’d used that was sending his white blonde stands to fly-away in every direction.

“I’ll literally call you back in a few minutes,” Draco explained, wondering if Harry thought he was trying to blow him off, when the brunette began shaking his head again. Draco decided to be honest, “Let me just…sort my hair out….” He finished in an embarrassed whisper, his face warming.

Harry’s eyes, if possible, widened even more, his glasses sliding down his nose as a result. He spluttered a little, and maybe read the expression on Draco’s face, as he cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose and reaching round to scratch at the back of his neck, “You look good.” He swallowed.

Draco snorted in disbelief, his eyes rolling dramatically, “Don’t mock me, Potter!” he warned, and he lost the battle with himself, letting his hand run over his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. It didn’t work.

Harry shook his head enthusiastically again, “I’m really not! You…” Harry blinked several times as though he was trying to work out what to say that wouldn’t annoy the blonde, “hang on” he said.

Harry, who appeared to have made a bit of an effort to brush his own hair and looked quite smart in a crisp white polo shirt, disappeared from view. Draco closed his eyes, cringing at how awful the call was going. He took the time Harry was gone to smooth out his hoodie and do his best to tame his wild locks. The thought occurred to him to wet his hair down and as he was about to turn towards the sink, Harry appeared again.

The brunette was smiling hopefully, and Draco was unable to stop the laughter that erupted from within him as he took in Harry’s appearance. The other man had changed into a ratty burgundy t-shirt that Draco identified as a Gryffindor quidditch training top which Harry had tried to cover with an oversized holey jumper. He’d obviously shook his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it as unruly as Draco’s, however it didn’t look much different than usual.

“I like your effort at ‘crazy hair’ but it’s never going to be on par with my birds’ nest,” Harry laughed, his arms crossed over his chest and a judgemental expression on his face. His twinkling eyes gave him away though, “Your outfit is more gym casual, whereas mine is more hobo-chic, so I win there, too. Nice try though.” He laughed. 

Draco’s stomach bubbled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. He felt a rush of warmth and joy surge through his body at Harry’s attempt to make him feel more comfortable, and he could feel his hands begin to tingle as his magic escaped his control. A kitchen drawer to his left flew open and cutlery spewed over the floor with a clatter, causing Harry to jump in surprise. Draco glanced at the knives and forks on the tiled floor and back to Harry who frowned in confusion.

“Sorry, that was me,” Draco muttered before he ducked down, collecting the utensils and dumping them in the sink. When he reappeared, Harry smiled warmly.

“Can we cook now?” Harry asked softly.

Draco looked up to the ceiling as though he could gain strength from it, before he glanced back at Harry with a resigned expression on his face. “This better be a decent dish, Potter! Right, where are we starting?” he asked, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips.

***

The two men followed Harry’s instructions together, each waiting for the other when they finished a task first. Draco was reminded of potions class when he’d work a few stations away from Harry and would casually watch the brunette when no one was looking. He was still clumsy and heavy handed, and had burned himself twice, something Draco had bitten his lip at in order to stop from laughing, but he’d kept going, his results the same as Draco’s at the end of each step. 

They laughed together as they chatted, Draco informing Harry of some of the wilder stories from his time teaching, and he shared some of his concerns about the boy Harry had met a few weeks prior.

The brunette listened closely, taking in as much information as Draco would share, and smiling as each new little piece to the puzzle surrounding the blonde would slot into place.

Half way through searing the duck, Draco became overwhelmed by the heat emanating from his stove, and without even pausing in the tale he was regaling Harry with, he shucked off his hoodie, folded it carefully and placed it onto a stool against the breakfast bar.

He missed the way Harry’s eyes lingered on him as he removed his jacket, and how they danced over the Slytherin coat of arms on his forest green t-shirt. A small smile pulled at Harry’s lips as he realised Draco hadn’t completely forgotten where he’d come from. 

Draco glanced up and noticed Harry watching him, and one of his eyebrows slid upwards in question.

“I’m ignoring the t-shirt.” Harry said quickly, noticing that a burning smell was coming from his own duck and hurrying to flip it over.

“I’ve been ignoring yours.” Draco replied lightly, his tone playful. Harry looked up and found Draco smirking back. 

“I’m wearing a jumper; how do you even know what t-shirt I’m wearing?” Harry asked, taken aback by the blonde’s accuracy. Draco laughed, shaking his head at the other man’s ignorance as he prodded at different pots of ingredients.

“I watched you train in that shirt for almost 6 years, Harry, I’d notice it a mile away.” Draco admitted, his tone turning sombre. He didn’t look at the brunette, knowing that his expression would be louder than his silence as he processed Draco’s remark. 

“Right. Add 2 cloves of garlic and a sprig of rosemary to the duck…” Harry informed, choosing to pass over the fact Draco had just told him he’d pretty much stalked his quidditch practices.

Draco followed the instruction with a nod, still refusing to meet Harry’s eye, and he wondered what was going through the brunette’s mind and if this was the way he’d expected this odd cooking session would turn. Draco decided to test the waters and put Harry on the spot.

“So, as we’ve cooked together,” Draco inquired, his eyes firmly on the sauce he was whisking, “are we eating together?” he asked, using the same playful tone as before. His stomach bubbled again as he waited for Harry to answer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meal with someone, and he was excited at the prospect of sharing one with Harry, even if it was over facetime.

Harry’s eyes snapped up from his own pot of sauce to Draco’s face, excitement sparkling in his emerald depths, “Would you like that?” he asked, his voice breaking midway through his question.

The bubbling in Draco’s stomach erupted again and he realised what it was. It was desire. He very much wanted to have dinner with Harry, and not just through a screen. He wanted to sit facing him, to have their knees knocking against one another under the table. He wanted the awkward silences and accidental touches. He wanted a real date. He wanted a real date with Harry Potter.

He cleared his throat to answer, excitement building within him causing a surge of magic to start the microwave rotating on its own, which he ignored as he glanced up and made eye contact with Harry’s blazing orbs.

He opened his mouth to answer when a slam emanated from Harry’s end of the call. Draco frowned as the brunette’s head whipped around, and the excitement he’d felt moments before was extinguished instantly by the sound of Ginny Weasley’s morose voice.

Harry’s head whipped back round, a stricken expression on his face, “It’s Ginny.” He mouthed, apparently at a complete loss as to what to do. 

It was like Harry had just snipped at the string that was holding up Draco’s walls, and they crashed down so hard it took his breath away. Swallowing down the vitriol that threatened to spew from his mouth towards the red-headed woman for interrupting whatever it was this was, Draco laughed humourlessly, shook his head and shrugged. Harry’s head whipped around again as the sound of Ginny’s voice came closer, before he turned just as quickly, mouthed the word ‘sorry’ and ended the call.

Draco stood for a few moments staring at the screen which now simply held an official picture of him with his university degree, and he struggled to control his emotions. He was moving quickly through fury, disgust, shame, and misery, and he gripped the edge of the counter to stop his magic from bursting out around him. What the hell was he doing? Harry was married! He was married, and Draco was having ridiculous fantasies of them dating.

The sauce he’d all but forgotten began to burn, smoke spiralling up and threatening to set the fire alarm off. Draco picked up the pot and dumped it in the sink, running the cold water tap over the top to extinguish the smoke.

The sauce was ruined along with his appetite, and Draco simply switched the stove off, before spending a few hours scrubbing away any trace that the evenings events had ever taken place.

***

Draco spent the following day ignoring Harry’s texts. He felt stupid and embarrassed that he’d allowed himself to be so vulnerable in front of the other man, that he’d allowed him to see past the walls he’d erected around himself, only to then make him feel worthless.

Draco’s mood was stormy to say the least and it was no better on Monday when he got to work. He entered his classroom and set himself up for the day, fetching a fresh coffee and prepared himself to plaster the false smile he’d have to wear for his pupils.

Whilst pouring his coffee into his travel mug, Draco felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he heaved a frustrated sigh, knowing the likelihood that it would be a message from Harry.

Pulling his phone out, Draco scowled when he read Harry’s name, ignoring how his stomach, which obviously hadn’t gotten the memo that he was mad at the brunette, jumped excitedly. He opened the message, expecting to see more grovelling apology, and was surprised by what he read.

‘You can’t ignore me forever, Draco.’ 

The message contained a few different emojis to show that Harry was trying to be cheeky and cute. Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head at the brunette’s Gryffindor confidence, and typed out a rebuff before he changed his mind, realising that that was exactly the response Harry wanted. 

Pocketing his phone and snagging his coffee, Draco made his way to his classroom, ready to begin what was sure to be a very long Monday!

************

Harry sat at his desk in the Ministry, chewing on his fingernails. Since the disastrous end to his and Draco’s cookery date (in his head it was a date!), the blonde had been ignoring his texts and facetime requests. He’d messed up, he was more than aware of this, and he desperately wanted to make things right with the other man. He realised he should have made sure to organise the video call when Ginny had no chance of walking in and ruining it, but he’d been so desperate to move them on from simply texting, that he’d taken a risk – and it had backfired.

He’d spent most of the Sunday that followed apologising to Draco only to be ignored by the other man, and had become overwhelmed with fear that he had well and truly blown it with the blonde.

He threw out the comment that Draco couldn’t ignore him forever before he’d crossed over into Ministry, purely because he could pretend that Draco may have replied but he wouldn’t know about it until he left the Ministry and it’s signal zapping atmosphere.

Whilst sitting at his desk, Harry concocted a plan to get Draco to speak to him again, and he smiled as he realised what he had to do.

**************

Draco allowed himself to become wrapped up in his lesson plan and distracted himself from thoughts of Harry by constantly interacting with his students and not letting himself have time to think.

When the bell rang signalling the end of the school day, Draco released his pupils and got his things together ready to go home. He had promised himself a large bottle of wine and the biggest bar of chocolate he could find for an evening watching rubbish television as a reward for making it through the day. His hopes at a quick get away were dashed.

“Hello, Mr Malfoy,” Came a voice from the doorway, and Draco, whose back was to the door, rolled his eye before forcing a smile to his face.

“Hi, Jo,” he replied, turning and nodding politely. He really couldn’t be bothered with fighting off his colleagues flirting whilst in the mood he was in but was far too much of a gentleman to ask her to leave.

“Nice weekend?” She asked, smiling widely and flashing slightly crooked, and obviously whitened, teeth. Her red lipstick had smudged slightly on one of her top teeth, and Draco tried not to wrinkle his nose.

“Pretty quiet, nothing to report,” he shrugged. There was no way he’d tell her either way.

Another voice sounded from behind Jo, and Draco was grateful to be interrupted by the school’s receptionist, “Mr Malfoy, you have a visitor.” She explained before stepping aside   
to reveal Harry, standing there with a guilty smile.

“Hi,” he greeted, and Draco detected uncertainty in the brunette’s tone. 

Jo, who stared at Harry with greedy eyes, held her hand out, “Hello, I’m Jo.” She said in a heavy, breathy voice. The urge to wrinkle his nose became even more prominent for Draco and he used Harry’s distraction as he shook Jo’s hand, to gather his thoughts.

On the one hand, he couldn’t understand what the hell Harry was doing standing in his classroom, especially after he’d been blanking him so completely. On the other hand, Harry looked good! He appeared to be worlds apart from the other times Draco had seen him in the flesh, and he couldn’t help the thrill of desire that rushed through him as he took in the other man.

Harry was clean shaven, and though his hair was still all over the place, it looked intentional and stylish. He wore slim fit trousers that seemed to hug all the right places, along with a jacket that held gold stitching and detailing around the collar and sleeves, and gold buttons lined the front in 3 rows. To Jo, Harry probably looked as though he belonged to some faction of the military, however, Draco immediately recognised the Auror uniform.

“Harry.” Draco murmured, doing his best to control the emotions he was feeling. He was both annoyed that the brunette had just shown up at his place of work when he knew Draco didn’t want to speak to him, and absolutely stunned by how beautiful the other man looked, “What are you doing here?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Harry glanced at the woman beside him and then back to Draco, unsure how much he could say in front of Draco’s colleague, “I just wanted to come and say hi.” he smiled, guilt evident in his expression.

Draco saw the moment the penny dropped for Jo as her eyes switched between the two men, and her mouth fell open in surprise, “Oh!” she moaned, a blush creeping up from her collar. Draco recalled the times she’d tried to flirt with him and the multiple attempts at asking him out, and he instantly felt shame for the embarrassment she was obviously experiencing.

“Jo, this is Harry, he’s a f…friend.” He stammered, trying to soften the humiliation he could see washing over his colleague.

“Well it was lovely to meet you, Harry. I better get going, see you later.” She mumbled, grimacing at Harry before she turned and walked out of the room.

Harry gazed at Draco, his eyes narrowed in confusion, “What was that about?” he asked, glancing back towards the empty doorway.

Draco followed his gaze, guilt settling in his stomach, “Jo has been…interested in me for a while…” he said, uncomfortably. “I think she’s just realised why I keep saying no…” he added without meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry felt his eyebrows rise and tired to control the excitement he felt at the implication to Draco’s words. He turned to face Draco who had gone to look busy at his desk and remembered why he was there. He slid his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slouching, “You’ve been ignoring me,” he murmured softly.

“Yes.” Draco said simply, dropping any pretences, “I’ve been ignoring you, Potter, maybe you should take the hint.” He drawled, careful not to look at the other man. He swallowed the sadness that crept up his throat and continued to mess up the paperwork on his desk that he had organised 30 minutes beforehand.

He heard Harry shift, and he clenched his hands as he felt his magic react to the emotions he was forcing down, “I can feel that you don’t mean that, Draco.” Harry murmured, referring to the magic he could feel seeping out around the blonde; his voice closer than it had been before.

Harry reached out to touch Draco’s arm, as though he was trying to coax him to turn around, and he swore as he hastily withdrew his hand. Draco spun around, his eyes wide, and his surprise caused the magic that had seeped out to form a kind of protective barrier which pushed Harry backwards. 

Harry’s instincts kicked in as he felt the press of magic hit him, and he produced his wand from a hidden sheath in his trousers, “Finite!” he gasped as he fought to stay on his feet. The magic instantly dissipated, and the two men stared at each other in shock for a moment.

Draco was the first to recover, humiliation settling over his shoulders like a cloak. He glared at Harry’s wand, “Put that away!” he scolded, his eyes flickering over Harry’s shoulder to the open door.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said remorsefully, “Auror’s instinct.” He added as explanation, pocketing his wand.

Draco bristled, turning around to face the brunette, his grey eyes stormy, “Funny how your auror's instinct isn’t telling you not to piss off a Malfoy!” He drawled, his chin jutting out like it did in his youth.

Harry tried not to smile as his mind was thrown back to Hogwarts, “Well, I spent our entire school career pissing you off simply so I had an excuse to speak to you, so I’m happy to take the risk.” He admitted.

A reluctant smile sprang to Draco’s face and he rolled his eyes as Harry broke through his irritation. He felt butterflies erupt in his stomach as he considered Harry’s admission, before he remembered the reason he was avoiding Harry in the first place, “How’s the wife?” he asked, straining to keep the bitterness he felt out of his tone.

Harry dropped his gaze, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. He countered Draco’s question with one of his own, “So, do outbursts like that a moment ago happen a lot?”

Draco looked away, mortified. He went back to sorting through the papers on his desk, actually tidying them this time, and shook his head, “Only when idiot aurors won’t leave me alone.” He retorted, “And I asked first, How’s your wife?”

Harry leaned against one of the desks that filled the classroom, and crossed his arms over his chest defensively, “I’m sorry about Saturday, I panicked.” He admitted.  
Draco’s lip curled and he turned around to face Harry again, “You panicked? Scared the Weasley will tell everyone you’ve been associating with a Malfoy? Is it a hangable offence now?” he asked waspishly.

Harry smiled humourlessly, letting Draco release some of the resentment he held for the wizarding world, “No. I didn’t panic for me, I panicked for you.” He declared, gazing pointedly at the blonde, “I figured the last person you’d want knowing your whereabouts, whilst using muggle technology I might add, was Ginny Po…Weasley.” 

Harry tried to cover his slip, but Draco noticed it. As much as he appreciated Harry’s intentions, he couldn’t help but focus on the reality, “Harry…”

Harry pushed himself away from the table and walked towards Draco, dread dripping into his bloodstream like poison. He wasn’t about to let Draco push him away, not now he was finally getting his chance with the blonde. He approached the other man, noticing the shaky breath Draco sucked in, and didn’t stop until he was so close the toes of their shoes touched.

Draco’s eyes shifted from stormy grey to molten silver and Harry felt spurred on by the blonde’s lack of protest at his closeness. He gently gripped the top of Draco’s arms, and waiting for his heartbeat to slow before he put himself out there, once and for all, “I like you, Draco, I always have.” He confessed, dropping his forehead against the other man’s.

Draco stopped breathing as fire danced across his skin where it connected with Harry’s. His mind was blank, all he could focus on was Harry and the ball of nerves unravelling in his chest. His eyes slid closed and he allowed himself to breathe in, letting Harry’s spicy scent envelope him, and he fought the urge to close the distance between them.

“I just need some time, time to put things right.” Harry pleaded, his own eyes falling closed. Though he desperately wanted to lean forward and press his lips against Draco’s, Harry ignored it. With a despondent sigh, he pulled back, something in his expression making it clear to the blonde just how difficult it was for him, and he took a few steps back until he could no longer feel Draco’s tingling magical signature.

Draco’s mind become clearer the further Harry moved away, and his heartrate slowed as a result. He considered the brunette’s request, and though part of him knew he was probably setting himself up for a fall, a larger part wanted to give Harry the benefit of the doubt. He decided to settle somewhere in the middle.

“I’m not guaranteeing anything, Harry,” he declared sombrely, his expression closed, “But I’ll consider it,” he added softly.

A watery smile pulled at Harry’s lips and he nodded, thankful that the other man hadn’t severed ties, and he decided now was probably the right time to leave, before Draco changed his mind.

“Are you going to start replying again now?” he asked, allowing his tone to turn playful again. Draco rolled his eyes, his mouth twitching despite himself.

“If I say yes, will you go away and let me go home?” Draco replied, one of his eyebrows sliding up.

“Yes!” Harry smiled brightly, gesticulating with his hands, causing Draco to finally laugh.

“Right, yes then!” Draco announced, pointing at the door, “Now, go, catch some parasites!” he added, shaking his head in jest. Harry forced himself not to react to Draco’s reference to his job, thankful that the auror uniform and wand incident hadn’t scared him off.

Smiling, Harry gave Draco a mock salute, “Speak to you tonight,” he promised, before turning and walking out the classroom.

Draco perched against his desk, smiling to himself as he waited for his nerves and heartrate to slow down. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he snickered, knowing it would be Harry. Fishing the device from his blazer, Draco opened the message, and the smile turned to a full-blown grin.

‘The next time we’re that close, I’m kissing you!’

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Harry paced his bedroom feeling like an absolute coward. Ginny was downstairs, this he knew because he’d cast ‘homenum revelio’ before he’d come home and had apparated directly into his bedroom to avoid her. He sat on the edge of his bed and gazed at his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger with his thumb in the same way he’d done over the years when he felt stressed – so often in fact, the band was perfectly smooth. He’d never taken it off, even when he’d been unfaithful to his marriage, and the idea of doing so now felt like the ultimate betrayal.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He could do this. He stood back up and walked over to the mirror, and he started to practice what he was about to do, pushing the trepidation he felt in his chest away. He knew what he needed to do, and he wanted to do it - he just didn’t know how to do it!

How did a person end a relationship that had spanned an entire decade? How did they look their spouse in the eye and say ‘Hey, I don’t want to be around you anymore!’? And more importantly, how did one break a bat bogey hex because Ginny was unbelievably skilled at them, and though Harry was an experienced auror, she always managed to catch him off guard!

He was stalling. He knew he just needed to sit Ginny down and say it and get past this ridiculous hesitation he felt. It was just Ginny, after all, it was hardly comparable to facing Voldemort, which was how Harry realised he was acting. 

He moved towards the door, bolstered by his own conviction, and knew now was the moment. He wanted Draco, had wanted him for so long it felt like a physical ache, and he knew that any type of potential relationship with the blonde was unfeasible whilst he was still attached to Ginny.

Wrenching the door open, Harry made his way down to the lower level of his house, knowing that Ginny would be working on play strategies for the Harpies, and he kept a constant stream of reassurance in his head that he was doing the right thing. Draco’s face hovered in the forefront of his mind, spurring him on. 

Stopping outside the kitchen door, Harry took a deep breath. Swallowing down the fear that his life as he knew it was about to end, he pushed the door open, his eyes landing on his wife.

Her head hung low over a play book, her long red hair forming a curtain, hiding her face, and Harry watched her for a moment. His mind flickered back to the Gryffindor common room, when he would watch Ginny study. He had spent many an evening watching the youngest Weasley, searching out reasons to love her, to find aspects of her physical appearance that he found sexually appealing. He had never found any, a revelation which had made him feel despicable, because Ginny was beautiful and feisty and passionate, even Harry could see that. He just couldn’t see her that way.

Shaking his head, Harry brought himself back to the present, “Hi, Gin. Can we talk?” He asked, his voice a whisper, however, in the otherwise silent kitchen, it felt as though he had shouted it. 

He leant against the door jamb, his hands deep in his pockets, hoping his body language was open; even if his heart was thudding against his chest as though she were the enemy, and he waited for her to agree before entering the room.

Ginny looked up from the table with surprise, her play books spread out around her and a quill in her hand. She had a small blot of ink against her lip which made him smile with affection for her. “Er…sure. Is something wrong? Is it mum…or dad?” She asked, rising slightly from her chair as she began to panic.

“No, no, everyone’s fine!” Harry reassured with a soft expression. He couldn’t help but feel saddened that Ginny assumed something was wrong because he was talking to her. It hurt how far they had drifted apart. They were practically strangers.

Harry pushed himself away from the door frame and fetched a bottle of water from the fridge, before settling at the table across from Ginny. She eyed him curiously, her gaze lingering on the water bottle in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, dropping her quill and sitting back in her chair, giving Harry her full attention. 

Harry uncapped his bottle and took a swig of water, his hand trembling slightly as he did so. Ginny noticed, her eyes narrowing in response. 

“I’ve been thinking about our situation,” Harry began, his mouth dry, despite the water, and he watched Ginny’s face for a reaction. 

She shifted in her seat, leaning forward a little in anticipation, but remaining quiet. Harry decided to forge on before he lost his nerve, “I think it’s time to go our separate ways.” He added, his voice breaking at the end. He squeezed the bottle in his hands as he watched the red head before him.

“Really?!” Ginny’s voice cried, the brightest smile bursting across her face. She gazed at Harry, wide-eyed and hopeful, and he felt surprise tug at his own expression.

“You’re happy?” He asked, uncertainly.

Ginny’s smile froze on her face and she appeared to attempt to rein herself in, “Aren’t you?” She asked, her crystal gaze flickering over his face, as though she was trying to read his expression.

“Well, I wouldn’t say happy, but it is what I want.” He explained, stunned by her reaction. He’d been expecting tears or anger, not excitement, “You want it, too?”

Ginny nodded, “For a while, actually. I’ve been seeing someone, it’s pretty serious, but he doesn’t want to cause trouble, so…” She shrugged, a sad frown pulling at her expression. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms as though comforting herself.

Harry’s eyes danced over her body language, and he felt an odd pull in his chest as she spoke of being with someone else. It felt a little like jealousy, but not the kind that made him want to fight for her; it was more the kind that made him realise he’d never wanted to fight for her, and that he could have gotten out of this situation a long time ago. 

Harry smiled sadly, feeling guilt wash over him. It occurred to him that it wasn’t just him that had been making sacrifices over the last decade, “Oh Gin, I’m so happy you’ve met someone.”

Ginny smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink, “He’s great, he’s on the Irish quidditch team,” she admitted, “We’ve been together just over a year…he’s mentioned he’d quite like to have children…” she added, her eyes dropping to the table.

Harry swallowed down a bubble of guilt, remembering – as he had no doubt Ginny was, too – the arguments they’d had in the beginning of their marriage about having children. Ginny had been keen on the idea; however, Harry had no intention of bringing children into his chaotic world.

“That’s amazing, Gin.” He smiled, genuinely pleased that Ginny still had a chance at the life she’d always wanted, “I’m so glad you’re happy.”

Ginny gazed at Harry again, her eyes flickering down to the water bottle in his hand, to his perfectly pressed, t-shirt, and back to his smooth, cleanly shaven face, “He must be special,” she murmured, knowingly.

Harry, reached up and scratched at the back of neck, guiltily, “Well, I just hope he treats you better than I did.” He countered, remorsefully.

“No, I mean your guy.” Ginny said clearly, a twinkle in her blue eyes. Harry spluttered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He noted the curiosity and shrewdness of her tone, and he cursed her perceptiveness. 

“What?” he breathed. His legs twitched under the table, and he crossed them tightly at the ankles to keep from fidgeting.

“Come on, Harry, I’ve known you were gay longer than you have!” Ginny exclaimed, smiling affectionately, “I never said anything because I figured you were just trying to work through it, but you’ve been different lately – you’ve stopped drinking for a start,” she explained, looking pointedly at the water he held in his hands, “You’re looking better, you’ve been smiling!”

Harry gazed at the books on top of the table, listening intently to his wife. It was beginning to dawn on him just how miserable and morose he’d been before Draco had come back into his life, and how the blonde had given him hope after so many years of being without it.

Harry leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, and his mind’s eye visualised Draco’s face. A smile as big as Ginny’s had been when speaking of her quidditch player spread across his face, and Draco smiled back, “He’s amazing.” He breathed, feeling like a giddy school-girl.

“Well…Who is he?” Ginny asked, curiosity rife in her tone. Harry’s eyes darted to her face and he sat up straight again, his back rigid with stress. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to take this route, and he felt his stomach drop as he imagined Ginny’s reaction to finding out he had feelings for a former deatheater.

Ginny sensed Harry’s reluctance and tilted her head, her gaze flitting over his face and reading the lines of stress. She cleared her throat before extending her hand across the table towards Harry. 

Harry watched Ginny reach across to him and he tentatively reached back, placing his cold, shaking hand in her warm steady one. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

“Harry, I know our marriage has been a sham,” she said sadly, squeezing his fingers comfortingly, “but we made a vow – your secrets are my secrets. That will never change.” She implored, her words as serious as her tone.

Harry studied her facial expressions, his heart pounding in his chest. Ginny squeezed his hand again, ducking her head to catch Harry’s eye, her own eyes soft. “Harry, you can trust me.” She promised.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and swallowed the fear that was creeping up his throat, opening his eyes, he hesitated before it tumbled out of his mouth in rush.  
“It’s Draco Malfoy.” 

Ginny’s ginger eyebrows sprang up her forehead in surprise while the rest of her face remained impassive. Her hand continued to grip Harry’s, although now it was more to ground her rather than to comfort him.

Harry waited for the explosion. His eyes focused on Ginny’s face, searching for any sign of what was going on within. Fear dripped into his bloodstream, but it wasn’t fear for him, it was for Draco.

“Say something, Gin.” He begged. He took comfort in the fact she hadn’t pulled away from him. To say he was surprised when she finally spoke would have been an understatement.

“Son of a bitch,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I always knew there was something between the two of you, even if neither of you did.” She added, rolling her eyes theatrically.

Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly agape with disbelief. The hand that held his gave another comforting squeeze, pulling him back from his astonishment. “You’re not…you’re not mad?” he asked, blinking. Ginny smiled widely, rolling her eyes again.

“Harry we’re not in Hogwarts anymore. Sure, he’s not someone I’d choose to be around, but he made amends for what he did back then.” She said, shrugging her shoulders, “Besides, I’m guessing you’ve spent enough time with him to know he’s not all bad.” She added with a sly smile, “Amazing, wasn’t it?”

Harry felt a blush spread across his face and his mouth twisted with embarrassment, “We’ve spent a little time together, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind to be honest. He’s changed a lot!” he explained, his face brightening as he thought about the little moments they’d shared, “He makes me feel…”

“What?” Ginny asked when he didn’t continue, and so wrapped up in thoughts of Draco, Harry didn’t notice how her tone and expression had turned melancholic.

“More. He makes me feel like I’m more than just…The Boy who Lived.” He shrugged, unable to put his feelings into words.

Ginny’s eyes slid closed for a moment, and Harry realised he’d hurt her with his remark, however, before he could apologise, Ginny’s eyes opened again. They shone as she gazed at him, and she swallowed with a little effort, “I’m sorry for everything, Harry.” She whispered, guilt riddling her tone. He could see she was remembering all the times she’d exploited his prominence within the wizarding world and made his life harder than it needed to be, and how much she regretted the hurt she’d caused him.

“I’m not,” Harry smiled, reaching his other hand across the table to enclose hers in both of his own. He winked at her, moving to kiss her knuckles, “All roads have led us here.” He smiled, and Ginny retuned it, “I love you, Gin. Always will.” He breathed, his eyes twinkling.

Ginny laughed softly, a tear escaping her eye. She leaned down and pressed her shoulder against her cheek to catch it, “I love you, too, Harry.” She sniffed before shaking her head to dispel the sadness she obviously felt. “Now, let’s start living our lives!” 

**************

Harry leant against his bedroom door feeling lighter than he had in years. Ginny and he had spent a little while deciding how they were going to begin ending their marriage before she had excused herself to go and see her lover, and Harry had wasted no time in sprinting up the stairs to phone Draco and give him the news.

He pushed away from the door with an exhilarated smile, however, as he reached for his phone, wisps of white, misty light appeared before him. He watched the wisps cautiously, glancing at the sneakascope which he’d owned since Hogwarts that sat dormant on his bedside table. So, it wasn’t dangerous, whatever it was, as it hadn’t set the device off. He decided it looked like wisps of a patronus that hadn’t quite taken on a shape, but he hadn’t produced it - he wasn’t even holding his wand.

Harry’s thoughts, inexplicably, flickered to Draco and worry he couldn’t quite dampen down caused him to chew on his nails. He didn’t know what to do, he could hardly speak to the blonde about it as he knew how the other man would react to talk of magic. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Draco…

***********

Draco finished cleaning the kitchen floor after a multitude of jars had flown from the pantry and smashed against the tiles, and he cursed his luck that his magical outbursts always presented themselves in the kitchen where it was guaranteed to cause the most mess.

He sat propped against a lower cupboard and allowed himself a moment to relax. The outbursts were becoming more frequent, he mused, his eyes lingering on the bin that held the pile of broken glass from his most recent incident. It was all Harry’s doing, he was certain of it. In the 10 years since Draco had last used his wand, he’d experienced maybe 1 or 2 outbursts a year, usually around Christmas and summer when his stress levels at work would explode. 

He was now experiencing them daily, and it was usually as a result of something Harry said in one of his many text messages.

Draco grinned as he thought Harry’s name and he shook his head at how goofy he was becoming, and the kitchen drawers wobbled ominously. The smile dropped from his face as he realised the chances of another clean up operation if he stayed put, and he pulled himself to his feet escaping quickly into the hall. 

He wandered down the hall towards the lounge, his thoughts drifting to the Dr Who re-runs he knew were playing on tv that evening, when he felt himself stop by the closet he usually pretended didn’t exist. His eyes fell on the wood panelling of the natural wood door, and he ran his fingers down the grain, lost in thought. He hadn’t opened that particular closet since a few days after he had moved in and he swallowed as the bizarre urge to wrench the door open filtered through his body.

His inner magic reacted as though it was spurring him on, and the door rattled beneath his hand in response. Closing his eyes and pressing his hand more firmly against the wood, Draco imagined the door opening, “Alohamora” he whispered. He hadn’t seriously expected anything to happen, as he’d only ever cast spells whilst using his wand, so the gasped that escaped him when the lock clicked and the handle turned, was of genuine surprise. 

Draco watched, wide-eyed, as the door swung open, jerking backwards before it could hit him, and he winced as the handle hit against the wall, knowing that it would have left a mark on the paintwork. He took a deep, calming breath, wrinkling his nose as the stale, musty air escaped its confines, and gazed into the small space.

His Hogwarts chest sat innocently in the foot of the closet, with a selection of robes folded in a box on top. A broomstick leaned against the corner, and a long thin box that contained his wand peeked out from beneath the twigs.

Draco didn’t move for a long moment. He simply stood, rooted to the spot, trying his best to calm his heart that pounded with trepidation. His hands tingled as he felt magical residue begin to collect, and he shook them in an attempt to dispel it. 

Making a snap decision and acting before he really thought it through, Draco sank to the ground and reached into the closet to retrieve his wand. With trembling fingers, he lifted the lid and pulled back the organza wrappings to reveal his wand.

It wasn’t really ‘his’ wand, not his original. He’d lost that when Harry had turned up at Malfoy Manor in the hands of snatchers all those years ago, though he shoved the memory away roughly before he could dwell on it too much. 

He had obtained this wand when he was still undecided about what he wanted from his future and had only used it a handful of times before he resolved to disappear into the muggle world.

He upturned the box, letting the wand fall into his hand and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm and through his body. Exhilaration swept over him and he closed his eyes as he felt all the wild magic within him centre to the wand in his hand. He was momentarily thrown back to being 11 years old, when he’d found his wand in Ollivander’s and the joy he’d felt at finally being able to channel magic accurately. 

The memory turned sour as he recalled his father making him practice spells on House-elves and physically caning him when he got the spells wrong. The years that had followed were tainted with pain and regret, and he supressed tears that stung at the corners of his eyes as he recalled the trauma he’d experienced, recoiling from the haunting recollections. 

He tried to think of something else; to think of happy memories, digging down deep into his past to find something, anything, positive. And there it was - Harry. Harry was the only positive. Watching Harry flying was the only thing that had given Draco any joy in the dark years of his youth. Watching him train, watching him soar – it had taken Draco’s breath away. He used the memory as a talisman, protecting him from the pain, and he thought Harry’s name over and over again. Harry!

All of a sudden, his magic seemed to converge at his fingertips and shoot towards his wand, and wisps of light shot out of the end and dispersed through the walls.

Crying out in alarm, Draco flung the wand back into the closet, closely followed by the box and its lid, and he scooted back until he was pressed against the wall, his stomach clenching painfully tight as though he were going to vomit. The ever-present magic fizzed again, and he flicked his hand in order to disperse it, causing the door to the closet to swing shut.

He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his breathing to slow, however he could feel the panic attack taking hold of him.

A vibration came from within Draco’s trouser pocket, but he was too far gone; the tears he’d tried to supress sprang forth and his head fell into his hands as sobs wracked his body. He’d been wrong to go poking at his past, to think he was strong enough to uncover the festering wound that was his heritage, and he pulled at the roots of his hair as resentment swallowed him.

After a few minutes, his phone vibrated again, and he managed to wrench himself from his pit of despair, inhaling deeply as he attempted to get a hold of himself. He thought of Harry again, and it acted like an anchor; the more he focused on Harry’s face in his mind’s eye, the easier his breathing became.

He reached down and extracted his phone from his pocket, letting his fingers slide across the screen. 

‘Hey, you okay?’ Read the first message, followed quickly by ‘My spidey-senses are tingling! Lol’ Draco frowned as he noted the timing of the messages and how the contents seemed eerily connected to what he’d just experienced. Surely that couldn’t just be coincidental?

Another message appeared on the screen as Draco considered the possibilities, ‘I’ll facetime if you don’t answer and we know how your hair can be!’ and despite himself, he laughed and rolled his eyes. As he gazed at the screen, Harry’s name appeared as the Facetime kicked in, and he gazed in wonder at the former Gryffindor’s persistence.

Without thinking of the repercussions, Draco swiped the button across to answer, and Harry’s frowning expression came into view, which instantly relaxed into a smile, “Hey.” He breathed, his eyes twinkling, causing Draco’s breath to catch in his throat. Harry seemed to notice Draco’s puffy, bloodshot eyes, and his smile morphed into a grimace.

“I knew something was wrong, I thought I saw a patronus but it didn’t have a form,” Harry explained, a line appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned. “What’s happened, are you okay? You’re upset!”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprised and a stray tear slid down his face. He swiped it away roughly, “I’m fine, Potter, stop fussing.” Draco scowled, very aware of how hideous he looked. His hair, much to his chagrin, was worse than the last time they had video called. He focused on the Patronus comment, “What are you talking about – A patronus with no form?” he asked, stiffly.

Frowning at Draco’s obvious unwillingness to share what was troubling him, Harry concentrated on the odd occurrence that had taken place before the call, “A few minutes ago, smoky wisps of light appeared in front of me. It was strange.”

Draco controlled his facial expression with difficulty. He thought of the similar light that had erupted from his wand and felt his heart pick up its pace as he considered the possibility that the two instances were connected. Clearing his throat, Draco tried to appear unconcerned, “It was strange, so you thought of me. Thanks.” He murmured, an eyebrow sliding up in a silent challenge.

It had the desired effect; Harry’s face drained of colour and he began to splutter apologetically, “No! Of course not, that’s not what I meant. I just…I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He explained, his face earnest. His emerald eyes raked over Draco’s face, “Are you okay?” he added in a small voice.

Draco ignored the question. His eyes drifted from Harry’s face to the closet door, and he swallowed with a little difficulty, “I don’t have a patronus,” he admitted, wondering if the light that he had produced was actually what Harry thought it was. “I was never able to produce one.” He whispered, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry frowned, “But something’s wrong, you’re upset – that can’t be a coincidence!” He exclaimed, incredulously. “It was like something was calling to me!” he added. He began to try and simultaneously hold his phone and pull a jumper over his head, and Draco rolled his eyes as he sensed where Harry’s thoughts were leading him to.

“What’s your address? I can be there now!” The brunette implored, swearing softly when he became tangled in the neck of his hoodie. 

Draco let his eyes fall closed as his head fell back against the wall behind him, and he wished he could be the kind of person who could let someone come and rescue them. The Slytherin in him pushed back, “Potter, calm yourself.” He breathed, listening as Harry continued to fight with his clothes, “Harry, stop, please! I’m fine.” He whispered, allowing his voice to turn soft.

Harry fell silent. Draco could feel his eyes on him, even through the screen, and he swallowed against his dry throat.

“You don’t look fine.” Harry said softly, frustration in his tone. Draco knew it was killing the other man; not being able to come to the rescue, and the thought caused Draco’s lips to twitch.

He let his head drop to his shoulder so Harry could see his face again, and he took a shuddering breath. Harry blinked, more than aware of how vulnerable Draco appeared in that moment, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d passed through another one of the blonde’s many defences.

“I wasn’t, but I am now. Honestly.” Draco murmured softly. 

Harry pursed his lips in disbelief and heaved a sigh. He wanted very much to be with Draco, where he could just pull the blonde into an embrace and fight away the woe that had obviously befallen him. He hated that he had to do this through a bloody smart phone!

“You won’t let me be there for you.” Harry smiled sadly. It wasn’t an accusation, just an acknowledgment. He understood, even if he disagreed whole heartedly, that Draco would never let him be his saviour.

Draco kept eye contact but shook his head once, “No.” He admitted, his expression remorseful but determined. He watched as sorrow dimmed Harry’s bright eyes, even though the brunette tried his best to hide it, and he felt his resolve falter a little. “Not yet.” He conceded after a moment.

A watery smile pulled at Harry’s lips and the light returned to his eyes, “Not yet.” He repeated warmly. He appeared to hesitate for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, before he took a small, meaningful breath “Do I need to be concerned about the magic I saw?” Harry asked gently.

Draco cleared his throat self-consciously, his face twisting with embarrassment. He seemed to not trust his voice as he merely shook his head, his eyes downcast. He was the picture of guilt, and it made Harry sad that Draco felt so disgusted by his own magic.

Curiosity burned inside Harry like none other, and he desperately wanted to know the details behind Draco’s apparent magical outburst. Deep down, Harry was delighted by the fact the blonde’s magic was reaching out to him, but he worried about the impact that would have on the former Slytherin.

He focused his attention back on Draco, reading the lines of stress and self-loathing painted across his face, and realised he’d give anything to see the blonde smile.  
When they’d reconnected, Draco had told him that he was truly happy in his new life, and the brunette couldn’t help but feel that he was making him unhappy simply by being in his life.

“You want me to back off?” Harry asked suddenly, watching Draco’s expression as closely as he could on such a small screen. The blonde man’s eyes widened ever so slightly and glanced away to a point just off to the side of the camera, and the angle shifted as though he had almost dropped his device.

Draco’s stomach clenched painfully tight again and he felt as though he might vomit. Was Harry looking for an excuse to pull back? Had Draco’s refusal to let him come to his flat and the weird magic he’d somehow managed to send to Harry been the final straw? He didn’t know how to respond, afraid that if he answered no, the brunette would think he needed him, but if he said yes, he would disappear.

“Draco?” Harry breathed, desperation lacing his tone, “Please look at me.”

Draco’s bit his lip as he tried to keep his magic in check and steeled himself for the onslaught of emotions that would flicker across Harry’s ridiculously readable face. He turned his gaze, stormy grey meeting emerald green, and the anxiety that reflected back made him feel dreadful.

“Do you want me to back off?” Harry asked again. Draco noticed that the brunette’s breathing was heavier, and the set of his mouth was harder. He realised that he’d have to do it, he’d have to do the thing he hated most – he’d have to give Harry power over him.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly. He swallowed down the panic he felt at putting himself so completely out there and pressed on before he changed his mind, “That’s the last thing I want.”

Harry’s eyes fell closed in apparent relief and a smile spread across his face as he released the breath he’s been holding through his nose, “Shit, you scared me for a minute then!” he admitted, blowing another breath throw his mouth as he ran his hand over his face.

Draco didn’t miss the glint of Harry’s wedding ring, “However,” Draco began, his expression and tone hardening as he was reminded again of the fact Harry was married, “I can’t let you in…”

Harry’s hand dropped from his face in alarm and he blinked in obvious confusion, “What?” he asked, “Why?” 

“Because of that on your left hand, Harry.” Draco declared with a humourless laugh, shaking his head at how shit his luck was. Harry glanced down, obviously at the ring on his finger and back up to Draco, his expression aghast.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Draco stopped him, holding his own hand up and closing his eyes, “I’m not pressuring you to leave your wife, Potter.” He added, “I’m not telling you to do anything, because that’s something you need to do in your own time. You just need to know that I won’t let you any closer than you already are whilst you’re married. I can’t.”

Strangely, Harry smiled at this admission. He propped his phone on his bedside table and Draco watched as he began to pull the ring off his finger. He looked at it for a moment before glancing up at Draco, his eyes bright with wonder. Harry then reached down and retrieved his wand from his calf holster and held it against the ring. 

With his eyes locked on Draco’s stunned orbs, Harry whispered “Incendio” and the ring burned up. “Ginny and I are divorcing,” he breathed, exhilarated. He felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders as the ring, the thing that handcuffed him to the life he’d never wanted, disappeared forever, “I ended it an hour ago.”

The lights flickered on Draco’s screen as his hallway bulb dimmed and brightened a few times, and Harry watched as the blonde sat immobile. He would have thought the screen had frozen if it weren’t for the lights. 

“Draco?” Harry said, his voice cautious, a frown pulling his dark eyebrows together.

The light in Draco’s hallway grew brighter and brighter, throwing Draco’s pale complexion and bloodshot, black ringed eyes into sharper focus. His metallic eyes widened before the bulb grew so bright that it exploded, plunging Draco’s hall into darkness, and Harry cried out in surprise.

“Fuck!” Draco murmured; his voice weak. He cleared his throat roughly, and Harry watched as he blinked rapidly in the dim glow of his phone screen, as though he was waking from a daydream.

“Did you just blow the light?” Harry asked in disbelief. He picked his phone back up and looked more closely at what was visible around Draco. From the angle of the camera, he could make out a deep red, almost burgundy, coloured wall and what looked natural wood skirting boards that blended with wooden flooring, “Are you sat on the floor?” he asked, confused.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you ask too many questions?!” Draco rumbled, his eyes glancing up to the blown light-bulb and he heaved a sigh. His mind was buzzing like a swarm of angry bees as he tried to process the things Harry was saying, and he realised he was being severe with the brunette for no other reason than he felt out of his depth.

Harry floundered, unsure of how to respond. Draco was giving off the impression that he was irritated with him, which seemed at odds with the words he had spoken earlier. 

Noticing Harry’s uncertainty, Draco heaved another sigh, before an impossible idea came to him. Though, it no longer seemed so impossible. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he swallowed down the sudden nerves that sprang forth as he gazed at Harry through his pale lashes, “How do you feel about trying the dinner thing again?” he asked coyly.

Harry’s face broke out in a grin, “Really?” he exclaimed brightly, “Yes. I’ll even let you choose the recipe this time,” he added, apparently elated with the turn of events.

Draco realised Harry had misunderstood, “Well, I thought maybe this time we could cook one meal…together…in the same kitchen…” 

Harry’s grin slid from his face and he audibly swallowed. His eyes shifted from excited to smouldering, “Like a…Like a date?” he asked, his voice husky, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. 

Draco forged on before he lost his nerve, “Yes,” He breathed, “A date.” Exhilaration flooded his body as he watched Harry’s expression glow with pleasure, and he fought to keep his own emotions in check. The fantasy of him and Harry sat across from each other, sharing a meal, presented itself to him as it had when they’d cooked together, and the muscles below his waist clenched with excitement.

Harry sat up straighter, blinking rapidly, and he licked his lips before clamping his teeth around his lower one, “I’d love to.”

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Draco scowled as he gazed around the playground. He was bloody freezing! Playground duty was one thing he hated about his job, especially in mid-December when the weather was Baltic, and he chose fashion over function when it came to dressing.

His ankles were cold, and he cursed the turn ups on his black chinos and his deck shoes that meant he was having to forgo socks, exposing his pale skin to the biting breeze. His black and white striped top was thick enough to stop goosebumps erupting over his torso, however he wore a blazer over it instead of a coat, which meant he had to pretty much jog on the spot to keep himself warm.

His thoughts, as they had since the night before, drifted back to Harry and the date they had agreed on. He couldn’t quite believe the brunette had actually ended his marriage with Ginny, and he wondered what it could mean for the budding relationship they shared.

Harry had explained that Ginny was quite keen to end things quickly, and that the 2 were going to be announcing it to the family after work that evening. Draco couldn’t quite supress the fact he wanted Harry to tell his family that he was…seeing…a Malfoy, and that he would do so even if they were against it. But then he would roll his eyes at how ridiculously romantic he had become and decided he’d watched a few too many soap operas.

Turning his attention back to the playground, Draco watched the children milling around the tarmacked court yard, playing games that made no sense and creating rules on the spot. He chuckled as he noticed a particularly intense game of tag occurring on the other side of the playground, in which a group of girls were determined to beat a gang of boys who often declared themselves champions purely by not letting the girls join-in. He decided to keep one eye on that situation, in case it turned ugly, and continued to survey the rest of the goings-on.

He spotted a young lad stood up against the fence alone, and frowned when he realised it was Jake from his class. He observed him for a few minutes, noting how he shifted uncomfortably and gazed at the floor, and Draco decided to make his way over and see if he was okay.

He felt odd as he approached, his magic tingling as though sensing danger, however it tingled from the outside rather than inside like it usually did, and Draco felt unease settle in his chest. He stopped a few feet away from the young boy, and the tingling intensified, and Draco took a moment to ensure he had full control of his magic.

“Hey, Jake,” he said softly, tilting his head to try and see under the boy’s mass of hair.

Jake’s head snapped up and a guilty expression crossed his face before he realised it was Draco, and a small smile replaced the guilt. Draco let go of a relieved breath, and he felt the magic around him settle.

“Oh, hello, Mr Malfoy,” Jake murmured, his earnest hazel eyes gazing into Draco’s. The blonde couldn’t shift the feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the young man.

“Are you okay, Jake? Why are you over here alone?” Draco asked, glancing around the playground to ensure anarchy hadn’t descended whilst his back was turned.

Jake shrugged and then winced, his hand reaching up to his shoulder before he caught himself and threw his hand back down, his eyes dropping to the ground. The unease Draco had felt before reared its head again and he swallowed as different scenarios flickered through his head. He didn’t like any of them.

“Jake, are you hurt?” he asked, taking a small step closer and sinking to a crouch to appear less threatening. His eyes swept over the boy’s face, taking in the dark smudges under his eyes and his paler than normal complexion.

The boy continued to gaze at the ground, anxiety rolling off him like a physical wave, and Draco felt his heart thud heavily in his chest. Oh, Merlin, please don’t do this to me, Draco thought desperately. A child had yet to disclose sensitive information to him, and he hoped they would never have to.

“Jake?” He said again, softly, his tone as warm as it could be when his heart felt like ice.

Jake finally looked up and made eye-contact with Draco. Guilt and fear glistened in the young boy’s hazel orbs, and his mouth twisted as though he were deciding if Draco could be trusted. After a moment, he appeared to decide that he was. And he pulled his collar aside to reveal a large purple bruise on the curve of skin where his neck met his shoulder.

Draco bit back a gasp, knowing that the boy would misread it as anger or disgust, and what he needed most of all in that moment was for Jake to know that he wasn’t feeling either of those things, even though deep down horror was clawing at his insides.

“How did that happen, buddy?” Draco asked, his tone calmer than he felt, and he fought to keep his expression clear. His mind raced through awful scenarios again.

Jake’s face puckered, “I fell off my bike.” He said softly. It was a lie, it was written all over the boy’s face, but Draco knew he couldn’t assume he knew the truth – he had safeguarding procedures he’d need to follow. It was a mark of how much Draco was forcing himself to remain calm that he didn’t experience an outburst.

“Come on buddy, let’s go see the nurse and make sure you’re okay.” Draco smiled, holding his hand out towards Jake, who, surprisingly, took it without hesitation.

As they made their way into the school, Jake’s small, warm hand in Draco’s, he vowed to find out what exactly was going on with the young boy, because something really wasn’t right, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

********

Harry’s nerves jangled as he and Ginny sat on one of the worn couches at The Burrow; the Weasley family congregated around them awaiting the news the pair had come to impart. He could tell by Molly’s face that she was expecting to be told she was going to be a grandmother again – the knitting needles clicking away next to her with a ball of white yarn a dead giveaway.

Ron and Hermione stood across from them, Ron trying to catch Harry’s attention to gain some clue as to what was going on, and Hermione seemed to be having a conversation with Ginny that was being carried out purely with their eyebrows.

Hermione’s eyes flickered to Harry and they widened when she realised he had caught her out, and a guilty smile spread across her face.

Ginny cleared her throat and her family fell silent, their gazes all falling on them both. Harry felt as though a spotlight had fallen on him and he swallowed nervously, glancing at Ginny who glanced at him. They smiled at each other warmly, and Ginny reached across and took Harry’s hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Harry and I have some news,” She began, her voice clear and unwavering.

“Well, obviously!” George announced, rolling his eyes. Ginny ignored him.

Molly leaned forward in anticipation, Hermione appearing to mirror her, both their faces alight with eagerness, and Harry sensed the coming fall-out.

“Harry and I,” She began again,

“You’re pregnant?!” Molly squealed, clapping her hands together, and Hermione’s eyes almost fell out and she clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other quickly, each wearing matching expressions of alarm, as the family began to celebrate around them.

“No!” Ginny yelled over the noise, “We’re not pregnant!”

The ruckus died down instantly, and Molly’s face fell in such devastation, Harry reconsidered carrying on. He felt Ginny squeeze his hand again, and he glanced at her. She appeared to have read his thoughts as she nodded encouragingly and winked with a smile.

Turning back to her family, Ginny took a deep breath, “Harry and I are getting a divorce.” She announced.

Silence met Ginny’s declaration and every face within the room wore the same stunned expression. Harry cleared his throat and reached up to scratch the back of his neck with his free hand. “Obviously it’s a bit of a shock,” he stated, his eyes meeting Ron’s, who stared back with his mouth agape.

“No, Ron being a prefect was a shock, Harry!” George said with a smirk, “This is off the scale!”

Harry noticed Ron and Hermione exchange a glance before their gazes settled on him, confusion and guilt in their expressions. He ducked his head before they could read anything in his own expression, and he addressed George’s comment.

“It’s really not, George. We’ve been unhappy for a…while,” he said, catching himself as he went to say just how many years they’d been unhappy for, and decided to soften the blow, “We’ve made the decision together,” he added, glancing at Ginny, who smiled as brightly as she did on their wedding day, “and we’re both happy about it.”

A small sob escaped from Molly which felt like a sledgehammer to Harry’s heart, “I’m sorry, Molly, we just couldn’t carry on the way we were,” he whispered.

“Yeah, mum, Harry and I have been pretty much separated for years.” Ginny added, her voice pleading her mother to understand, “We’ve both met other people and want to be happy!” she added. All eyes shifted from Ginny to Harry, and he felt his face begin to heat up.

He swallowed around the dryness of his throat, giving Ginny a sideways glance that she smiled at. Cheers Gin! He thought with an inward eyeroll. Ginny had been worried about telling her family that she was in a serious relationship with someone else, and Harry had promised he would be by her side when she told them. He should have known his soon-to-be ex-wife would take him down with her.

He looked around at the stunned and surprised faces of people he considered to be his family and back to his wife, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with challenge, and he knew this was the moment. This was the time to finally shed the ‘Harry Potter’ façade he had been hiding behind for so many years. Like Draco had said all those weeks ago, he needed to be the Harry he was, not the one everyone wanted.

Clearing his throat and straightening his back, Harry glanced up and looked at the faces of his 2 best friends, “I’m gay.” He breathed.

The silence that fell following his admission was so thick it could be cut with a knife. He fought to keep eye contact with Ron, which was difficult because the red head kept turning his head to look at Hermione for the proper way to react.

Ginny, who still held his hand, squeezed it reassuringly, “So, we both like other guys,” she quipped, trying to break the tension, “We’re both cool with that, so no one else has any right to have a problem with it. Got it!” She added fiercely.

“Well, I’m just glad there won’t be another addition to the family – between Ron, Bill, and Percy, I’m struggling to keep up with all the brats’ birthdays!” George laughed, slapping a hand down on Ron’s shoulder, who sagged slightly under the sudden weight.

“Oh George, really?” Molly growled. She stood from the chair she sat at and made her way over to Harry and Ginny, who stood so she wouldn’t have to stoop down. “Are you sure this is the only way?” she asked softly, taking each of their hands in her own.

Harry gazed into the twinkling blue eyes that were so much like her daughters and felt sorrow swallow him. Molly Weasley looked genuinely saddened that he and Ginny were going their separate ways.

“Yes, Mum.” Ginny whispered, apparently feeling the same as Harry, “We can’t carry on living a lie, it’s not fair on either of us.”

Molly only had eyes for Harry, and she rubbed her wrinkled thumb over the back of his hand tenderly, “Harry?” she whispered.

Harry nodded, a sad smile pulling at his lips, “I’m sorry, Molly.” He whispered, his voice breaking a little as he was overcome with emotion for the woman before him – his second mother, the woman who had taken him into her family without a second thought. It broke his heart that he would no longer be tied to the only family he’d ever known, and he swallowed as he felt his eyes begin to sting.

Molly gazed at him with tear filled eyes, a warm smile spreading slowly across her face as she read his expression, “You will always be a member of this family, Harry.” She breathed before pulling him into a fierce hug. Harry closed his eyes as she embraced him, breathing in the lavender and flour smell that was pure Molly Weasley, and the tears that had began to collect in his eyes fell over his dark lashes.

“Yeah, you’re an honorary Weasley, Harry.” George laughed, coming forward to pat him on the back, “Just got the wrong colour hair!” he added, and threw an arm round Ginny’s shoulders who had been silently crying at the touching scene between her mother and her first love.

Harry opened his eyes and looked over Molly’s shoulder to Ron and Hermione. Hermione wiped tears from her own eyes, and she smiled softly at her best friend. Ron’s eyes were as wide as saucers and Harry swallowed the fear that bubbled up from chest.

They held eye contact for a long moment before Ron visibly swallowed, “You’re not my best mate,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully.

Molly pulled away from Harry and turned to Ron, her expression aghast. Hermione’s head whipped around to her husband, a look of horror on her face, and a gasp escaped her, “Ron!” she scolded, though Ron simply shook his head.

“He’s not.” He said shaking his head, his eyes still gazing at Harry, “You’re my brother, Harry. And I don’t care who you fancy.” He added, smiling. He stood from his place on the couch and walked forward, pulling Harry into an embrace.

Harry hugged the lanky man back, squeezing his eyes closed to stop himself from weeping, though he sniffed and gave himself away, “Come on, mate, don’t start crying…you’ll set me off!” he laughed, patting the brunette on the back.

***************

Draco knocked on the shabby front door of one of the identical council properties on the rough estate that ringed the school he worked at, his eyes shifting to the window to the right. The tatty net curtain fluttered as though someone had looked out through it, before he heard a bolt slide across on the door. Draco straightened his back and pushed his chest out in an attempt to appear bigger than he actually was.

The door opened slowly to reveal a woman who looked harassed, and Draco felt a little of the nervousness he felt disappear, “Mr Malfoy?” the woman said hoarsely, “What’s Jake done now?”

Draco smiled tightly at Jake’s mother, noting how she stood against the door so he couldn’t see inside, “Hello, Miss Taylor, Jake hasn’t done anything, but I was wondering if we could have a chat about him?” he said in a tone that suggested he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m busy at the moment, can it wait?” Jake’s mother muttered, glancing over her shoulder. Draco felt his skin prickle uncomfortably, and he glanced at window again to see Jake looking out with a worried expression on his little face.

“Not really, Miss Taylor. I’m worried about Jake, I’ve noticed some concerning behaviour and he has…bruises on his shoulder…” he explained, trying his best to keep his voice steady when he wanted to scream in the woman’s face.

She shifted nervously, lines of stress across her forehead as she frowned, “It’s not what you think.” She whispered, her eyes glancing left and right to make sure no neighbours were eavesdropping, “He just does silly things sometimes.”

Draco felt his anger swell inside him. Was this woman really trying to justify hitting her son? He took a deep breath, “We can support you if you’re struggling to cope with Jake’s behaviour…” he began, only to be cut off.

“No! I don’t want your help! When his dad comes home, he’ll sort him out.” The woman spat, “Now please leave, I have things to do!” she added before slamming the door in Draco’s face.

Draco stood looking at the door’s peeling paint for a long moment, stomach acid climbing up his oesophagus at the chilling remark about Jake’s father, and he had to force himself to move away from the door.

As he walked, unseeing, down the street, his heart pumped furiously. His pulse echoed loudly in his ears like a drumbeat, and his magic crackled ominously.

What was he supposed to do? He glanced back at the window and caught sight of Jake waving sadly before disappearing back behind the curtain, and he knew he had to look into his family situation and work out what was going on before Jake got seriously hurt.

*************

“Harry, I’m so sorry I haven’t been around lately, I feel like a horrid friend,” Hermione implored when the rest of the family began sampling Molly’s cooking. She had pulled him aside, her face the picture of guilt, “Just with running for Minister and the kids and…”

“Hermione, stop! It’s fine, I understand, I never wanted you to feel guilty.” Harry soothed, pulling Hermione into a side hug and kissing the top of her head, her ever-bushy hair tickling his nose. “And friendship is two-way, I haven’t exactly been reaching out…!” he added with a sigh.

Hermione shifted, glancing up to look at her best-friend. Her eyes flickered over his face before a small smile pulled at her face, “You look good, Harry. I can’t put my finger on it, but you look different.” She mused, her eyes narrowed as though trying to work out a puzzle.

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, and he pulled at the collar of his auror uniform self-consciously, “Jeez, I get it, I let myself go!” he muttered.

Ginny, who had chosen that moment to walk by, sniggered, “Gay suits you better!” and she poked her tongue out as Harry gave her a look.

“How long have you known, Harry?” Hermione asked in a small voice, instantly extinguishing the friendly banter. He could tell she knew the answer before he said it, and it broke his heart to see how the knowledge devastated her.

“Since sixth year,” he murmured, pulling her closer to his side as he felt her sag slightly, “I knew no straight person should be obsessed with another guy like I was.” He added with a shrug, though he waited for the penny to drop.

“Malfoy?” Hermione exhaled, her head whipping round to face Harry, her eyes wide.

“Mmm hmm,” Harry nodded, gazing around at his family instead of making his eye contact. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his face as he imagined Draco finding out just how interested he’d been in him at Hogwarts.

“Did anything ever…?” Hermione asked, and Harry had to look at her because her voice had taken on a curious, girlish quality, as though she were digging for gossip. Her eyes were wide, but her mouth was supressing a grin, which caused Harry to laugh.

“Oh, God, Hermione!” Harry said, shoving her away playfully, “Go eat!” he added, glad of an excuse to end the conversation as Molly called them over to the table.

*******************

After dinner, Molly put Harry and Ron in charge of making tea, which Ron spent the entirety moaning about. Harry managed to prepare each of the Weasleys’ their beverage and was pleased when he remembered how each of them took their desired drink.

Ron delivered the drinks considering he had done nothing else to contribute, before he joined Harry back in the kitchen to fetch his own.

Harry leaned against the shabby work surface and took a sip from his cup, watching Ron over the top, who appeared to be dithering, “What’s up?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

Ron, who gazed out the kitchen window, bit his lip in uncharacteristic uncertainty, “I never made you feel like you couldn’t tell me, did I?” he whispered.

Harry put his cup down and pushed away from the counter and joined Ron by the window. He nudged the red head before pushing his glasses up his nose, self-consciously, “I just needed to get to this place, Ron.” He murmured, turning and smiling softly, “It just took me a while.” He added with a laugh.

Ron nudged him back, “Does this mean we’ll hear from you more often?” he asked, his eyebrows mashing into a frown, before reaching for his tea and taking a gulp.

“Yes, promise.” Harry agreed, ducking his head.

Without thinking, Harry felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and slipped it out, smiling when he read Draco’s name next to the notification for a message.

“So, is that the guy you’re seeing?” Ron asked, a curious smirk pulling at his freckled face. He balanced his teacup on its saucer and held his hand out for Harry’s phone, “Let’s see him then,” he pressed.

Harry gripped the phone in his hand so tight his knuckles turned white and he felt the colour drain from his face, “No! I don’t have a picture of him, so…-” he all but screeched.

Ron’s eyes widened comically, and he withdrew his hand, picking his teacup up and taking a sip of tea, “He must be either very good looking and you’re embarrassed, or he’s really ugly…and you’re embarrassed.” He pondered, watching Harry’s expression with the same shrewd look in his eyes that Ginny often had, “or…I know him!”

Harry, who had taken a sip from his own cup simply for something to do, spat tea all over his best friend, spluttering like an idiot.

“Harry!” Ron hissed, jumping backwards, his own cup wobbling precariously on its saucer. He wiped a hand over his face, his nose scrunching in disgust, “Ah, this is like 50% spit!” he moaned, “I’m gonna go and wash your saliva off and then I’m gonna find out who you’ve been exchanging saliva with!” he sniggered before making his way to the bathroom.

Harry rolled his eyes before excusing himself from the room and made his way out into the garden, glancing over his shoulder as he went to make sure no one followed him. He wandered into the vegetable patch before pulling his phone out and swiping through to Draco’s message,

‘How did it go?’

He smiled to himself as he stared at Draco’s words and felt his heart flutter at the blonde’s concern. He couldn’t think how to word a text, so before he could change his mind, he selected the option to call the blonde.

It rang once before Draco’s smooth voice answered, and the fluttering of Harry’s heart doubled. How can one person’s voice be so sensual? “Hello?”

“Hi,” Harry breathed, “Are you free to talk?” he asked, noting the sound of Christmas music playing the background.

“Yes, I’m just finalising plans for the nativity,” Draco replied, and the music lowered as though he had turned the volume down. Harry smirked at the likelihood the blonde was listening through choice, and a warmth spread through him at the thought.

“How did it go? I’m guessing it didn’t go well if you’re calling…” Draco guessed, his tone gentle.

“I kinda came out-” Harry said flatly, still in complete disbelief. He couldn’t quite let himself believe that it was that easy.

“Holy shit.” Draco exclaimed, “What happened?” His voice turning sharp, and his breathing hitched slightly as though he was trying to keep himself calm.

A smile spread across Harry’s face as he imagined Draco preparing to come and spit expletives at anyone with red hair, “They were all really great, actually. I’m an honorary Weasley for life it seems.”

“I’ll try not to hold that against you.” Draco drawled, and Harry imagined him rolling his eyes whilst curling his lip.

“Well, thank you,” Harry said mimicking Draco’s tone, and the most delicious chuckle sounded from the blonde which caused goosebumps to erupt over Harry’s skin, “How was your day?” he asked, turning his back on the house and wandering towards an old oak tree the Weasleys had tied a swing to.

Draco sighed, “Odd.” He said simply. Harry waited for a moment, the only sound coming from Draco’s end of the line being the festive music, and he realised he wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Why?” Harry asked softly, sitting down on the swing and looking out over the fields that surrounded The Burrow. The view was breath-taking.

Draco cleared his throat and sighed again, “I’m worried about one of my kids,” he admitted, and Harry smiled at the way the blonde referred to his pupils, “I think something’s going on at home, his mother was sketchy as hell when I spoke to her…” he trailed off.

“Sketchy how?” Harry asked, frowning, letting himself swing gently.

“Like she was hiding something. I got a really strange feeling from her, like she wanted me gone as quickly as possible.” Draco said in a rush, as though up until that point he’d been trying to dismiss his concerns, and now he couldn’t stop himself. “And poor Jake was looking out the window and he just looked miserable.”

“Has Jake told you anything?” Harry asked gently, desperately wishing he could ease Draco’s concerns.

“Some crap about falling off his bike,” Draco moaned, “He knew I knew he was lying, that’s what makes it worse – he’s an honest kid.”

“You think the mother is hurting him?” Harry asked, his voice turning hard. He had an image of his aunt shoving him into his cupboard and shuddered away from it.

Draco was quiet for a long moment, before he cleared his throat again, though this time it was harsher, “It’s probably something and nothing, just me being paranoid.” Draco said dismissively, and Harry could tell from his tone that the subject was closed.

“So…tell me about your show,” Harry asked, reaching for something to say to lighten Draco’s mood, “Are the kids ready?”

“My kids were born ready, Potter.” Draco quipped, an obvious smirk in his voice which made Harry smile, “They’re buzzing, actually, this is one of the reasons why I became a teacher. I can’t believe it’s less than a week away, though – I’m still trying to get them to finish a song without one of them asking to go to the toilet!” he laughed, and Harry imagined him, adorably dropping his face into his hands.

“I’m sure you’ll get them all in line. Maybe try your Malfoy voice…” Harry chuckled.

“I don’t know if they could handle that, Potter,” Draco drawled, sending a tingle down Harry’s spine.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry concurred with a chuckle.

“I usually am,” Draco’s smooth laughter echoed down the line, before he cleared his throat nervously, “So, I was wondering if you were free Friday night…for dinner?”

Harry smiled out at the view, a bubble of excitement growing in his stomach. He considered Draco’s question and wondered aloud how they were going to logistically cook a meal together when he still lived with his wife, “I’m very free. I’m not sure about my kitchen though…”

Draco paused for a moment, and Harry began to wonder if he was having second thoughts, before he replied in a small, unsure voice, “Well, I thought we could give it a go at my place.”

“Your place? I’m intrigued.” Harry mused, kicking at the patch of dirt that had been used as a kick-off point for the swing over the years and had never recovered. The bubble of excitement multiplied as he began imagining Draco’s house, his mind producing unwanted memories of Malfoy Manor and how magnificent it had been, “You’re a ‘shoes off at the front door’ kind of guy aren’t you?” He asked intuitively.

“I certainly am, Potter.” Draco said, an obvious smirk in his voice – Harry’s lack of refusal at the blonde’s suggestion apparently bolstering his confidence, “I’m also a ‘clothes off at the door’ kind of guy, so I hope you’re prepared.”

Harry snorted, though a thrill of desire passed through him as he realised Draco was flirting, “I’m sure I can cope with that.” He countered with a grin, “Can you?”

Draco’s rich laughter echoed down the line, causing a shiver to run down Harry’s spine, “Oh, Potter, you have no idea!” he purred seductively.

“Feel free to enlighten me.” Harry challenged. His mind began producing images of Draco naked and his body responded in earnest.

Draco laughed again, only this time it was throatier, “I have every intention of doing so.”

“Is that so…” Harry murmured, his eyes closing as he imagined Draco’s hands on his bare skin, “Well, I’m open to any suggestions.”

Draco breathed heavily, “I’m glad to hear that. I’m interested to see how Auror Potter…performs…”

Harry’s head fell back, and he dropped the arm holding his phone down to his side as he growled with frustration, before lifting the phone back up to ear in time to hear Draco chuckling.

“As interesting as this conversation is, and believe me, it’s interesting! I better get back before I’m missed.” Harry sighed, sadly, “So, I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait.” Draco breathed, and Harry swallowed down the longing he felt from those two words. “Goodbye, Harry.”

Harry sighed, “Goodbye, Draco.” He smiled before ending the call. He looked out over the fields again, resting his head against the rope of the swing, and pressed the side of his phone against his lips. Friday could not come quick enough!

“I’d have preferred bloody Voldemort, Harry!”

To be continued…


End file.
